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A Political Pilgrim 

in Europe 



BY 

Mrs. PHILIP SNOWDEN 

Author of "Through Bolshevik Russia" 




NEW XBIr YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






£3 






Go 
MY NOBLE AND HEROIC MOTHER 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

Introduction ix 

i. The Second International i 

2. The Second International (continued) . 17 

3. The Second International (concluded) . 38 

4. The League of Nations Conference . 54 

5. The Conference of Women at Zurich . 75 

6. The International at Lucerne . . 95 

7. Dying Austria 103 

8. After One Year 128 

9. More About Russia 139 

10. From Russia by Sweden and Germany . 155 

11. Concerning the Jews .... 175 

12. Georgia of the Caucasus .... 189 

13. More about Georgia 215 

14. Home Through the Balkans . . . 228 

15. The Distressful Country .... 237 

16. More about Ireland 254 

Conclusion 271 

Index . ...... 275 



INTRODUCTION 

In these days everybody is writing his memories. Dis- 
appointed politicians decline to be forgotten. Successful 
and unsuccessful generals refuse to be neglected. People 
of all sorts and conditions insist on being heard. The 
most intimate affairs of a life are laid bare in order to 
arrest public attention. Intolerable to most is the fear 
that the world will go past him. Nobody will willingly 
let himself die. This is the conclusion to which one 
is driven by the publication during the last two years 
of a vast mass of autobiography. 

I am writing my own memoirs — two years of them. 
It never would have occurred to me unaided that they 
could be of the slightest interest to anybody. Friends 
have listened to my stories with interest, and public 
meetings on several occasions have, by their silence and 
attention during the telling, shown a certain pleasure 
in their recital ; but only the insistence of a valued few 
has induced me to put some of them into a book. 

These are not the most interesting experiences of 
my life. The four years of the war could reveal much 
more, and better, if it were possible to write about those 
times. I doubt if I could — fully. The big experiences 
of life are seldom even spoken about, much less put down 
in black and white. Things happened during the war 
which are as sacred as the birth of a child or the death 
of a lover. 

The twelve years of agitation for woman suffrage, 
during which time I addressed more than two hundred 
public meetings a year in as many different towns, were 
packed full of incident, grave and gay, which a little 
quiet thought might dig out of the recesses of the mind. 
They were gallant days, full of fine friendships. 

ix 



Introduction 

But these stories of my wanderings in Europe since 
the Armistice, with no other purpose in view than to 
do what one person might do, or at least attempt, to 
restore good feeling between the nations and the normal 
course of life as quickly as possible, will interest chiefly 
those who understood, and those honest folk who won- 
dered at, the position which a few of us adopted during 
the war. 

Those who have been brought up to believe, as I 
was, that war is alien to the spirit and teaching of Chris- 
tianity, will scarcely blame me for taking that teaching 
literally. I believed with all the intensity of conviction 
that evil could not be wholly destroyed by evil. The 
application of this belief to war was clear : Militarism 
could not be destroyed by militarism even though the 
princes of this world declared that it could. 

I had read enough history to prove to myself the 
mad folly of wars. All of which never clouded my appre- 
hension of the fact that war may be an evil and yet, 
by reason of vicious policies and pledges over a number 
of years, become the lesser evil of two wrongs in the 
eyes of many wise and good men and women. To choose 
between the evil and the good is simple. To decide 
which of two evil things is the lesser evil is anything 
but simple. I believed myself to be intensely right. 
This never meant that the other person was necessarily 
wrong. I never tried to influence by so much as a hair's 
breadth the judgment of the young man called upon 
to fight. What he did was his business, not mine. 
If pure-motived, he was entirely honourable whether 
he chose prison or the front. 

I believed from the first hour that the overwhelming 
majority of those who enlisted for the war and of those 
who supported the war did so from the best of motives, 
and from the same idealism which made it impossible 
for me to believe in its good issue. It was all a matter 
of method. The young men went to fight for the thing 
which I believed could not come by fighting. But as 



Introduction 

a woman, who could not be called upon to go into the 
trenches, it was peculiarly my business to seek to end 
the war as soon as possible for the sake of the gallant 
lads who had no choice consistent with their sense of 
duty. 

During the last year of the war, after Trotsky had 
proclaimed the terms of a just peace at Brest- Litovsk, 
after the German Reichstag had embodied the same terms 
in a resolution passed by an overwhelming majority of 
its members, after President Wilson in his wonderful 
speeches and Mr. Lloyd George in his masterly phrases 
had given the world to understand that these objects 
were theirs also — self-determination and the rights of 
small nations, universal disarmament, and the League 
of Nations for the preservation of peace — I toured the 
country from Land's End to John o' Groats making 
speeches in favour of a just and lasting peace by negotia- 
tion. A moderate estimate places the number of people 
I spoke to on this topic at not less than 150,000. 

I have re-read those speeches, widely reported in 
the local Press. I can find no word that I would alter, 
no principle which I would retract, no position stated 
from which I would withdraw. 

In them I gave my reasons for fearing the effect 
upon Europe and the world of the policy of the knock- 
out blow. Every one of those prophecies has come 
true. They are becoming more dismally true every day. 

I made it clear that a negotiated peace might not 
be successful. It might be proved that the peace honour- 
able to all concerned, which was to justify to the immortal 
spirits of our dead the sacrifice they had made, and 
make their dreams come true, was not possible by con- 
ference. Very well. The loss of young life was so 
appalling that it ought to be attempted. 

I gave the utmost credit for sincerity and honesty 
to those who differed from me in their views. I paid 
my full debt of sincere praise to those who fought and 
died for the right. 

xi 



Introduction 

No ; there is nothing in those speeches to be regretted. 
And I do not regret them. 

I am still profoundly convinced that the war went 
on two years too long, and two years more than were 
necessary. Time will prove me right or wrong. I am 
content to wait. 

But I cannot wait, and no patriot in this country 
can afford to wait, for the Peace to come right. He 
must begin to make it come right. The imperialists 
of Europe are poisoning the world. Into the pit which 
they are digging for one another they are destined to 
fall themselves, dragging the innocent with them. 
Russia, Germany, France, England, America — all will 
go the same way to ruin unless the great awakening 
comes soon, and men learn that the bonds which unite 
nations are indissoluble, or are cut by them at their 
own peril. 

It is needful that all should become, if not pilgrims, 
priests and prophets of peace and good will. It is vital 
to do so. Communism cannot save mankind if it be 
imbued, as so far it has been, with the old bad spirit 
of hate. Capitalism is failing before our eyes. Mili- 
tarism has failed. 

A new conception must be born, or an old vision 
reborn in the minds and hearts of men. The ever- 
lastingness of Love ! The indestructibility of Faith ! 
The eternity of Hope ! 

" Many waters cannot quench Love, 
Neither can the floods drown it ; 
Who shall slay or snare the white dove 
Faith, whose very dreams crown it ? 
Gird it round with Grace and Peace 
Deep, warm and pure and soft as sweet sleep. 
Many waters cannot quench Love, 
Neither can the floods drown it." 



A POLITICAL PILGRIM 
IN EUROPE 

CHAPTER I 

THE SECOND INTERNATIONAL, JANUARY, I919 

" How infinitely little is the best that we can do, and 
how infinitely important it is that we should do it ! " 

To begin a new book with an old quotation is bad ; but 
it must be forgiven because it expresses in a phrase the 
sentiment upon which the whole of my public life has 
been built, and it explains in a sentence the object and 
purpose of those wanderings in many lands of my col- 
leagues and myself about which I have engaged to write. 

Nothing less than a clear understanding on the 
part of the critical observer that they held very strongly 
the belief, old-fashioned it may be, that " out of the 
mouths of babes and sucklings " is strength ordained, 
can save from the charge of madness or of folly the 
plunge of twelve members of the British Labour Move- 
ment, with a bright hope in their hearts, into the mael- 
strom of Europe and of European politics in January 
of 1919. 

Mr. Arthur Henderson, M.P., Secretary of the National 
Labour Party, had made strenuous efforts during the 
later days of the war, and after his return from Russia, 
to open a door to international understanding and possible 
reconciliation by trying to obtain from the British 
Government permission for representatives of British 
Labour to attend an international Socialist conference 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

at Stockholm, but without success. Time alone will 
prove the folly of the Government's refusal. It is 
sufficient here to remind the reader that a deep and 
widespread desire for some attempt at an honourable 
peace by understanding had existed in Great Britain 
for nearly two years before the end of the war came. 
A working women's organization, the Women's Peace 
Crusade, collected in a few weeks nearly 60,000 signatures 
to a petition for a negotiated peace ; and at 133 public 
meetings addressed in less than a year by myself, with 
an average attendance of 1,000 persons, was carried a 
resolution on similar lines, with fewer than thirty dis- 
sentients in all. These were small things in themselves, 
but symptomatic. 

So great was the anguish and concern at the time 
of the Stockholm proposal that a great Conservative 
London newspaper headed one of its daily leaders with 
the words : " Hands off the Socialists ! " 

Whatever may have been the reason for the Govern- 
ment's refusal to allow British workmen to meet the 
workmen of other lands at Stockholm, whether on account 
of French pressure, which was said, or through fear of 
impairing the moral of the soldiers, which was inferred, 
they withdrew their opposition after the Armistice, and 
in January of 1919 we left for Berne and the Second 
International. 

I have the most vivid recollection of that first journey 
to Europe after the war, probably because it was the first. 
I think that every delegate felt the same, a revival 
of faith, a renewal of hope, a quickening of life. For 
months before the sudden end of the war, acute sadness 
and cruel pessimism had possessed us all. Ten, twenty, 
thirty years, the best that life held, had been devoted 
by one or the other to the building of a better humanity, 
and this destruction of everything we had worked for, 
this swift rattling back to the beginning of things, and 
to worse than the beginning in some ways, was at times 
too tragic to be borne. But before the opening of new 



The Second International 

opportunities pessimism promised to fly and hope to 
return and stay. 

" Isn't it glorious ! " shouted Margaret Bondfield to 
her colleagues as we shot swiftly into Folkestone station. 

" Isn't what glorious ? " I asked, thinking she meant 
our first view of the sea, stretching black and restless 
beyond the veil of fine rain which dimmed the windows 
of the railway carriage. 

" Why, that we can travel once more, and that we 
are flying as fast as we can to see the comrades from 
whom we have been separated so long." And she waved 
her passport gaily. " I wonder if Clara Zetkin will 
be at the conference ; and Balabanova ? It is ages since 
I saw Angelica." 

Margaret's bright face beamed with happiness, and 
her brown eyes shone like stars as she gathered up her 
wraps and bags for transport to the boat. She was like 
a bird set free from the cruel cage that had held her for 
four tormenting years. She suggested a warm little 
bird in her looks and manners. Small and brown, with 
a rich russet colouring of the cheeks, and quick in her 
movements, there is nothing in the world she resembles 
so much as the robin with the red breast. 

She was one of the delegates representing the Par- 
liamentary Committee of the Trade Union Congress. 
I was a representative of the political side of the Move- 
ment. Miss Sophie Sanger was invited to accompany 
us as interpreter, and was possibly the most practically 
useful woman of the party. She speaks four languages 
with equal fluency. What Miss Sanger does not know 
about the world's laws regulating labour and labour 
conditions, especially those affecting women, is said 
not to be worth knowing ; which probably accounts for 
the fact that she now enjoys an appointment of consider- 
able value and importance in the League of Nations 
Labour Department. 

Mr. Henderson did not travel with us. He had gone 
ahead several days previously to help M. Huysmans 

3 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

with the final arrangements for the Conference. There 
had been some slight hitch with the Swiss Government, 
which at that time was tormented with the fear that 
we were a body of Bolsheviks out to subvert the loyalty 
of Swiss citizens. It was necessary to reassure President 
Ador and his associates on this point. Mr. Henderson 
was the man to do it. Nobody could look at him, the 
simple strength and solid respectability of him, and think 
him a Bolshevik ! In spite of assurances given by him, 
every delegate was obliged to sign a statement repu- 
diating the Bolsheviks and all their works before he 
was permitted to enter Switzerland ! 

Mr. J. H. Thomas was also one of the delegates ; 
but whether he was attending a special conference with 
Mr. Barnes at the Hotel Majestic in Paris, or whether 
he was busy settling a strike I cannot remember — strikes 
were epidemic at this time. He came to Berne later in 
the week. 

The short passage across the Channel was quiet and 
uneventful. We sat in our deck-chairs well covered 
with warm wraps. A grey mist soon hid the land from 
our view. A slight rain moistened our hair and faces. 
We could not read for excitement and the blowing of 
the wind. We sat watching our fellow-passengers' 
efforts to control their nerves and the busy sailors 
engaged upon their various tasks. 

I do not know why the sentimental confession should 
be made here, but ever since I was a child chatting to 
the fishermen on the beach at Redcar I have felt a peculiar 
liking for the men of the sea. Perhaps it is an inheritance 
from a seafaring ancestry. It should be in the blood 
of every Briton. There is something in the brave, blue 
eyes of the sailor, his jolly frankness, his courage, his 
simplicity which goes straight to the heart of one. His 
unending contact with Nature in all her moods has 
stamped itself upon his being as plainly and unmistak- 
ably as the heated atmosphere of the weaving-shed 
or the smutty environment of the mine have set their 

4 



The Second International 

mark upon the workers in these places ; but in a 
pleasanter, more wholesome fashion. 

In an hour or so we sighted Boulogne. It was raining 
hard, and the little French town looked very dreary 
and very dirty. French, British, and Belgian troops in 
considerable numbers mingled confusingly, the bearded 
poilu laughingly replying in cockney slang to Tommy's 
amusing French. Incredible quantities of war material 
of all sorts met the eye. The railway track which we 
crossed from boat to train was a swamp. We had waited 
till our backs were almost broken with fatigue for the 
examination of our passports in the smoke-room of the 
steamer. At that time the element of common sense 
had not entered in the faintest degree into the organi- 
zation of this business. Several hundreds of people, 
packed like sardines in a tin, waited their turn in the 
crowded ship's corridor, and as the war had spoilt every- 
body's temper and ruined most people's manners, elbows 
were freely used to jostle out of their rightful places 
in the queue the timid and the polite. 

A similar rushing, pushing, squeezing, tearing of 
clothes, wounding of ankles with the sharp edges of 
boxes, which the owners were too mean to give to the 
porter or too faithless to trust to him, occurred in the 
douane. At this time every box was opened and its 
contents carefully examined. The fatigue was immense. 
Women fainted and children screamed. Men swore 
loudly, unashamed. Unperturbed, the blue-uniformed 
officials pursued their avocation. 

Once again an examination of passports, this time 
by French officials, and again a swaying mass of people 
in front of the narrow, wooden door, and a hideous 
scrimmage to enter every time the little French soldier 
opened it to admit the two or three persons who were 
permitted to go through at once ! 

The delegates lost one another in the general con- 
fusion. We made a bee-line for the refreshment room 
as soon as we got through our business, hats awry, 

S 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

hair blown, cheeks flushed with hot air and suppressed 
fury. Some had lost their umbrellas in the scramble. 
One missed a good overcoat which he afterwards found. 
A moderate recovery of spirits and temper followed the 
appearance on the scene of hot coffee and flaky rolls, the 
good-natured waitresses smiling a coquettish welcome 
as we took our seats at the little square tables. Another 
wave of feeling threatened to overwhelm us when the 
bill was presented, but this we conquered, and paid up 
like lords ! After all, there were a few food profiteers 
in England, and it was a little early to complain ! 

Our indefatigable secretary and comrade, Jim Middle- 
ton, had engaged seats for us in the Paris train which 
left Boulogne two hours after our landing. " Jim," as he 
is affectionately and familiarly called by his many 
friends in the Movement, is one of the rarest souls in 
the British Labour Party. When the history of the 
Party comes to be written his name will figure in it 
very importantly if there is any sense of right and 
proportion in the historian. What the Labour Party 
owes already to his selfless and unremitting devotion 
to the work of its organization can never adequately 
be estimated or expressed. His is the sort of work 
which is done quietly, out of the public gaze, with no 
newspaper advertisement and no clamour of praiseful 
tongues. But it is there. It is done well and without 
stint. And it is of the very stuff and fabric of the great 
machine which Labour is slowly but steadily building 
for its uses in the struggle for its economic and political 
emancipation. 

Jim is slim and fair as a Norseman. His kind eyes 
are forget-me-not blue. His blond hair has turned to 
grey, but he is young. His patience and good nature 
are inexhaustible. He is never too tired to oblige a 
friend, and he can always find an excuse for an enemy. 
He is as good as gold and as true as steel. 

So are the other young men on the headquarters 
staff. There is " little Gillies " as he is everywhere 

6 



The Second International 

called, whose clear brain and Scottish capacity for hard 
work have contributed big things to the international 
side of Labour's work ; and I know no department of 
future Labour activity more important than the ideas 
and schemes the Party may develop for the conduct 
of international relations. By these, even more than by 
its domestic policy, will Labour government be judged 
and justified by public opinion. 

There is Will Henderson, already a Parliamentary 
candidate, who will surely follow in his father's foot- 
steps ; Herbert Tracey, excellent writer, full of a fine 
idealism as well as a practical common sense, who gave 
rich gifts to the cause until a larger opportunity called 
him temporarily abroad ; Captain Hall, as straight as 
a die, the Party's financial secretary ; Fred Bramley, 
the brilliant young under-secretary of the Parliamentary 
Committee (Trades Congress) ; E. P. Wake, the very 
able chief organizer of the Party — but it is impossible 
to mention them all and the conscientious women who 
assist them. They are young men of whom any Party 
is entitled to be proud. 

The great strength of the Labour Party lies in the 
amount of devoted, unpaid work which it is able to 
command from its members. " But the men you have 
mentioned are paid good salaries. Why so much praise 
of men who only do what they are paid to do ? " says 
the carping critic. The query is a common one, and 
pitifully mean. And it embodies a stupid lie. A few 
hundred pounds a year is no payment for the work 
done for the Labour Movement by these admirable 
servants of the Party from Mr. Arthur Henderson down- 
wards. There are things which cannot be paid for in cash. 

We arrived in Paris at seven in the evening. There 
we stayed several days. We wanted, if possible, a pre- 
liminary conversation with certain of the French dele- 
gates. We hoped to meet the Belgians. Some of us 
had designs on the Hotel Crillon and a possible interview 
with Colonel House. The Crillon was the headquarters 

7 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

of the American section of the Peace Delegation. Paris, 
alas ! was the ill-chosen seat of the Allies for the Peace 
Conference. The fate of mankind might have been 
vastly different had some other centre of discussion 
been selected. 

Paris was likewise a very crowded and uncomfort- 
able city at the time of our visit. Every hotel was full. 
The enormous staffs of the various national Peace 
Delegations were a large element in the overcrowding — 
they, their friends and their visitors. Suppliants to the 
Conference or to individual members of the Supreme 
Council were so numerous that hotel accommodation for 
the ordinary traveller about his simple business scarcely 
existed ; but then the ordinary traveller was not en- 
couraged to travel. A deliberate policy of embarrass- 
ment and inconvenience was adopted to persuade him 
to stay at home ; and if he suffered for his wilfulness 
he had nobody but himself to blame. With a new world 
in the making, what business abroad had any ordinary 
person which mattered a tinker's curse ? Thus the 
official view of affairs. 

So that when Miss Bondfield, Miss Sanger, and myself 
found ourselves without beds, and with no quarters suit- 
able for women to go to, nobody in Paris was surprised. 
A generous fellow-countryman, hearing of our plight, 
placed at our disposal his own large and elegant bed- 
room. There were two beds and a comfortable sofa in 
it. One of us occupied the sofa for two nights, when 
we were able to take up our quarters in the Hotel 
Moderne overlooking the Place de la Revolution. 

Paris immediately after the Armistice was a woeful 
spectacle of neglect and dirt. It was not much better 
six months ago. In those early days it was like a hand- 
some slut in need of a bath ; which in view of its suffer- 
ings was not surprising. The paint on the woodwork 
of houses and shops was almost all peeled away. Shutters 
hung awry on their broken hinges. Roads were unspeak- 
ably filthy, and full of dangerous holes and swampy gutters. 

8 



The Second International 

The parks and gardens looked ragged and tattered. 
The Bois de Boulogne and the Champs Elysees were 
marred with the shreds and patches of war equipment. 
Dismal weather made everything look a hundred times 
worse than it really was. We were wise enough not to 
come to a hasty judgment about Paris. After all, we 
had a vast gay literature to contradict the sad story 
written on Paris when first we saw it ! 

The living in the hotels and restaurants was riotous 
and expensive. In the homes of Paris it was another 
story, we were told. Foods were strictly rationed, but 
of some kinds it was difficult to get even the meagre 
portion allowed. The strain was heavy upon the city 
housewife of the humbler classes. Prices were ruinously 
high. Wages scarcely kept pace with them. Strikes 
were frequent and menacing, apt to hold up one or an- 
other of the public services at any time, as in England. 

But in the public cafes, the dance-halls, and the 
hotels, nothing dimmed the joyousness of the Parisians, 
set free at last from the haunting fear of the German 
invasion. Day and night, and night after night, a lively, 
exuberant, passionate crowd in each of these public 
places abandoned itself to an ecstasy of song and dance 
and play, in utter and unrestrained intoxication. 

M. Jean Longuet, the grandson of Karl Marx, and 
at that time a Deputy in the French Chamber, invited 
Mr. Macdonald and myself to lunch with him at a little 
Italian cafe near his business quarters. We called for 
him at the office of his newspaper, Le Populaire. On 
our way all together he took us past the restaurant 
where Jaures was shot. He pointed to the window at 
which Jaures was sitting at the time of his murder. 
If I understood him rightly Longuet was present when 
the awful thing occurred ; particularly awful in view 
of the certainty that the issue of affairs for France might 
have been infinitely happier, and for Europe infinitely 
less sorrowful, if this great man had lived during the war. 

One of the great scandals of history will be the 

9 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

acquittal of the murderer of Jaures. He was one of the 
giant political characters of France. The squalid poli- 
ticians who govern the affairs of Europe at the present 
time could never have been where they are if there had 
not been removed either by force or fraud, or by the 
ordinary process of nature, death, so many of the great 
men entitled by intellect or character, sometimes both, 
to occupy the seats of power. Jaures was murdered 
by a common assassin, and official France has seemed 
to rejoice. But I recall the impressive fact that the most 
arresting picture in the Chamber of Deputies is the 
immense canvas of Jaures addressing the chamber from 
the tribune. They may have hated him, but they insist 
on his being remembered ! 

Jean Longuet was born in London, and speaks ex- 
cellent English. He is tall and dark, with curly hair and 
brown eyes. He has a rich voice, and is a very eloquent 
speaker, full of passion when moved. Friends of his 
assure me that I may trust his sense of humour, and, 
in order to present a quick picture of the physical man 
to an English reader, I may say that when Longuet 
makes a public oration and warms to his subject he 
assumes an attitude and appearance which irresistibly 
remind one of a genius of another sort, Charlie Chaplin. 
Given Charlie's creased trousers and big feet, the picture 
would be complete ! 

But Longuet is no comic figure in international 
politics. He is a sincere idealist and a most engaging 
personality. There are those who would regard this 
statement as less of a compliment than a comparison 
with the artist whose amazing gift makes honest fun 
for millions. This, they say, is much better, and much 
safer for mankind, than to be the advocate of ideals 
too lofty for statesmen and people to achieve because 
too great for them to comprehend ; ideals so high that 
they mean crucifixion for the few who live up to them, 
and greater degradation for the many who deliberately 
elect to live below the best they have heard and seen. 

10 



The Second International 

The tiny Italian cafe I sought again on the return 
trip, but never found it. One delicious dish of macaroni, 
prepared as only the Italians know how to prepare it, 
was more pleasing to the taste than all the accumulated 
delicacies of the best Parisian table d'hote ; for those rich 
hotel meals were impossible to eat without a thought 
of the millions who were reputed dead or dying, in fields 
and ditches, and on roadsides, in their houses, in hospitals, 
in prison camps, for the lack of a crust of bread or a glass 
of pure water. Our friend and host of the cafe we learnt 
afterwards was a Socialist, and a member of the Party ; 
a fact we had rather inferred from the whispered asides 
with Longuet during the smoking of cigarettes and the 
drinking of the wine and coffee. 

Our chief business in Paris was to try to persuade 
the Belgian Socialists to come with us to Berne. They 
were sitting in conference at Brussels at the time. They 
had there decided not to attend the Berne Conference, 
and had sent delegates to Paris to explain the reason 
why. We met them at the headquarters of the 
French Socialist Party. All our pleading with them 
was of no avail. Their conference had so decided, and 
though they would personally have liked to go, if only 
for the fellowship of the thing, Party discipline must 
be maintained. Camille Huysmans would be there 
as secretary of the International, but they could 
not go. 

Their great difficulty was their unwillingness to meet 
the German Majority Socialists, who had supported the 
war and who had not protested against the invasion 
of Belgium. How could they take part with such men 
in the building anew of the International ? What sort 
of internationalists had these men proved themselves 
to be ? The German Majority must first express its 
contrition. Then would be the time to forgive. They 
could never forget. 

" Why do you not come to Berne and say all this 
to the Germans themselves ? " I asked in my speech. 

ii 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

" Come and say all you feel about this, where not only 
the German Majority but the whole world can hear you 
say it." I reminded them of the brave and splendid 
gesture of the Belgian women who came to the Inter- 
national Conference of Women at the Hague while 
the war was still raging, and who, seated on the right 
of Miss Jane Addams, with the German women on the left, 
resolved with them and with the women of all nations 
represented there to do all in their power to make wars 
impossible in the future. 

" Surely," I said, " so far as the plain citizens of 
every country are concerned, we are all in the same boat. 
We are all far more the victims of circumstance than its 
architects. We have all been deceived, cheated, lied 
to. In the clash of various loyalties mistakes are made 
and cruel things are done and acquiesced in. But is 
there one of you who, in his heart of hearts, blames any 
man for taking the part of his country in an inter- 
national quarrel ? Is anyone amongst us quite sure that 
in the same circumstances we would act otherwise ? 
I refuse to believe that any German Socialist rejoiced 
over the invasion of Belgium. In any case, is it not 
better to get face to face and talk it all out, where no 
false newspaper can come between, and no misunder- 
standing blind and paralyse, instead of brooding alone 
over wrongs for which the wrongdoers may be only 
too ready to atone ? Come ! " 

We left without them. The first meeting of the 
Second International included no official Belgians. But 
I left the meeting in Paris with the feeling that the time 
of complete reunion would come very soon. Eighteen 
months later in Geneva the Belgians were present, and 
no more international note was struck in that gathering 
than the speech of Emile Vandervelde, the Belgian 
Minister of Justice. 



We were obliged to travel from Paris to Berne in 

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two parties, and even then were unable to enjoy sleeping 
compartments. The trains were packed in every avail- 
able corner, and many of the passengers were obliged 
to spend the night in the corridor. There had been 
an immensity of passport business in Paris, but the 
burden of all this had been borne by the secretary. He 
could not save us from the individual examination at 
the Gare de Lyon, nor the ever-recurring nuisance at 
intervals along the whole route. 

Belgarde is the French frontier town, and here we 
were hauled out of the train for further torture by pass- 
port and Customs officers. It was the outrageous im- 
perturbability of these fellows that made me sick. They 
seemed devoid of all human feeling. At Belgarde we 
were roughly questioned about our money. Had we any 
gold ? Had we more than £40 in any kind of currency ? 
More than this sum was not allowed to be taken across 
the frontier. Later no silver was permitted to be trans- 
ported. My bags were diligently searched by a woman 
official, but not one cigarette did she find for her pains, 
nor wine, nor spirits, nor jewels, nor perfumes, nor any 
one of the half a hundred things they appeared to be on 
the prowl to discover. 

These performances were repeated at Geneva in the 
Swiss interests ; and half a dozen times between Bel- 
garde and Geneva Swiss police examined our unfortunate 
passports, which were rapidly assuming a limp and 
dog's-eared appearance with so much handling. I never 
inquired, but I imagine these people were the officials 
of the various cantons through which the train passed. 
Any other theory would establish the Swiss Government 
as insane with fear and suspicion. But finally, through 
sheer weariness of flesh and spirit, I ceased to question 
the doings of these minions of the law, but quietly sub- 
mitted to any number of exasperating formalities. 

The Paris train arrived in Geneva at 9 in the morning. 
The connexion for Berne left at 4.10 in the afternoon. 
We had ample time to see this famous old city, beauti- 

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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

fully placed at one end of the great crescent lake of the 
same name. Mr. Macdonald, like a true and faithful Scot, 
left us to visit John Knox's church. Some lingered over 
the ample breakfast in the comfortable cafe. The fas- 
cinating lake drew the attention of the rest. It was 
along the side of this lake that my friend — well, I will 
not disclose his name — was walking, gaily swinging his 
stout English walking-stick. He knew two words of 
French, oui and merci. Humming a gay tune and 
twirling that stick, he struck a man in the face. 
" Ah, merci ! " he cried, meaning " I beg your pardon." 
The man stared in blank astonishment, and then said 
in good, plain English : "I think it is I who ought to 
cry ' Mercy,' young man." 

Snow lay hard and frozen upon the ground, and capped 
and covered the mountains in the distance. The vast 
masses of Mont Blanc were visible in the clear, crisp air. 
Delivered from the cramped and poisonous conditions 
of a filthy railway carriage, super-heated, we enjoyed 
blissfully the bright beauty and clean orderliness of this 
Puritan capital of French Switzerland. And in the 
evening, when the last rays of the sun had changed into 
a glowing pink the white of the Alpine snows, we entered 
upon the last stage of our long and tiresome journey, to 
begin our labour of reconciliation. 



We were met at the Berne railway station by an 
odd assortment of European Socialists. 

" Willkommen, kameraden," said a little man with 
a profusion of long sandy hair and an abundant beard. 
" Es macht uns Vergniigen die Englischen kameraden 
wieder zu sehen. " (Welcome, comrades. It is a great 
pleasure to us to see the English comrades once more.) 

I gazed fearfully at this amazing group of people, who 
looked for all the world like a committee of anarchists 
ripe for an expedition ! They were, in fact, the gentlest 
of human beings and as pacific as Quakers ! The man 



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who welcomed us was Kurt Eisner, President of the 
Bavarian Republic, who was afterwards murdered in the 
streets of Munich, in part for the attitude he adopted in 
this Conference. But in his large-brimmed hat and con- 
spirator's cloak nothing could have saved him from the 
suspicion of a raw Englishwoman, unused to the manner 
of dress and style of speech of so many Socialists in 
European lands. And those who met us were all alike. 

" Comment allez vous, camarades," exclaimed a 
French-speaking delegate, and I found myself shaking 
hands with an even more terrifying apostle of the gospel 
of Karl Marx, whose brilliant red tie would have served 
for a railway signal ! 

I recall a conversation I had with M. Renaudel, at 
that time the editor of L'Humanite, when we travelled 
together in Georgia eighteen months later. 

" Why do you English Socialists never use the word 
' comrade ' in speaking to each other ? In France it is 
always ' comrade/ never ' monsieur/ except to the 
bourgeoisie." 

" The word comrade is often used in England also," 
I replied. " I rarely use the word myself, and if you 
want to know why, my reason is very simple. It is a 
very beautiful word, but it has been frightfully misused 
and has lost a good deal of its value. I have heard it 
so often in the mouths of people who have no more 
comradely feeling for me than a nest of mosquitoes, 
that it js now no guarantee to me of real friendship. 
On the contrary, I am suspicious of those who use it 
most. It is like that even more beautiful word ' love/ 
which has been cheapened and vulgarized by its misuse 
until now it means exactly nothing on the lips of most. 
What value would you attach to the love of somebody 
who in the same breath expressed the same fervent 
devotion to a jam tart ? ' Comrade ' means nothing. 
It is a mere form of expression, a hackneyed formulary. 
I keep this word for those I know to be truly my friends." 

I told Renaudel of an acquaintance of mine, a Trade 

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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Union leader who received a post card from an angry 
fellow unionist, with a skull and cross-bones at the head. 
" Dear Comrade," it began, " What do you mean by selling 
out like you did ? You are getting something good for 
yourself out of this. You are a liar and a scoundrel ! 
You ought to be shot ! Just you wait till I catch you 
out by yourself ! Look out for your dirty hide ! You 
filthy dog ! Yours fraternally, B. S." 



It was nearly midnight, and we were worn out with 
the long journey and sleepless night. Soon we were 
fast asleep between the spotless white sheets of those 
exquisite beds, happy in the thought of the morrow's 
meeting and its possibilities. 



16 



CHAPTER II 

THE SECOND INTERNATIONAL (continued) 

The secretariat of the Conference had its headquarters 
at the Belle Vue Hotel. The Conference itself was held 
in the Volkshaus, the headquarters of the Socialists. 
This fine building in the heavy German style comprised 
within itself an hotel, a theatre, a restaurant, a lecture- 
hall, and any number of Trade Union committee rooms. 
The funds for its building were supplied by the members 
of the Party and the Municipality jointly. If this were 
the only building of its kind in Switzerland it would 
be remarkable ; but I very much doubt if there are 
a dozen cities of any size in the whole of Central Europe 
which have not a similar Labour Temple. Some of 
these buildings are very fine indeed, and can lay claim 
to a certain architectural distinction. Their numbers 
put to shame the British Labour Movement, which has 
not a single building set apart for the social uses of all 
its members. 

Similarly with their newspapers : The Daily Herald 
is the only daily newspaper in Great Britain which can 
claim to represent organized Labour in the slightest 
degree, and the Daily Herald is not the property of the 
Labour Party, which has no right to dictate its policy 
nor control in any way its activities. In Germany alone, 
before the war, there were more than sixty Socialist 
dailies. 

The necessity of frequent meeting obliged all the 
British delegates to remove from the charming pension, 
to which some of their number had gone, to the Belle 
Vue Hotel. This public palace could tell strange tales 

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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

if its walls could speak. Some day a writer will appear 
who will tell the true story of this modern Babel ; but 
he will have to wait until this generation is dead and gone 
before he publishes it, or else commit suicide when it 
appears ! It housed the most extraordinary medley 
of princes and peasants, dukes and dockers, ex-kings 
and Socialist presidents ever collected in one building 
since the Great War turned the world upside down ! 
In the wake of these illustrious or dangerous personali- 
ties crept that indigenous growth of the centre of diplo- 
matic life and political activity, the political agent or spy. 

Unaccustomed to the society of this individual I 
never sought him. Unaware of his existence before the 
war I never recognized him. He may have spoken to 
me. It is possible he extracted enough information 
from me to fill several sheets of a report and earn his 
squalid wages ; but the fear of him never obsessed me. 
It was painful to observe how suspicious everybody 
was of everybody else. Nobody dared to speak freely. 
You realized that your companion, whoever he might 
be, was making reservations and preparing an escape 
when he was talking to you. Nervousness showed itself 
in every gesture, fear in every glance. 

To be an object of suspicion oneself is not pleasant. 
To have to be frightened of everybody else is disgusting. 
I refused to do it. I would avoid nobody. I would 
speak to everybody who wanted to speak to me on 
serious business. I wouldn't pay any attention to his 
nationality beyond the inquiry necessary for an in- 
telligent appreciation of his conversation. So far as 
I was concerned there was nothing to hide. What 
I felt and thought about the political situation I was 
prepared to say from a public platform, and did so, 
not only in this Conference, but later in Zurich, at the 
Women's Conference held there in June. I had come 
to Switzerland on a mission of reconciliation, and it 
was obvious from the first hour that the personal touch 
and warm human sympathy were more needed and 

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would be more warmly appreciated than any number 
of Conference resolutions. 

A friend — one of those well-known friends possessed 
by everybody, who always hasten to tell one the un- 
pleasant things — told me that I was in the reports of 
the spies of every Legation in the city. " Splendid ! " 
I said. " It will give them something to think about, 
and will keep them all guessing." 

I made four separate journeys from London to Berne 
between January and July of 1919. On various occa- 
sions during that period I heard a great deal about 
myself that I had never known before ! I was a dangerous 
Bolshevik ! I was a spy of Clemenceau's ! I was a 
British agent ! I was an active pro-German ! I was 
an anti-German pretending to sympathize with Germany ! 
I was aiding and abetting the royalists of the ex-enemy 
states ! I was an anarchist in disguise ! I was in the 
American Secret Service ! I was a pro-Turk ! I was 
a friend of Karolyi's ! I was a secret Communist posing 
as a moderate ! I was a pacifist ! 

Of all these stories only the last was true. And in 
these days, when I hear pacifists defend the methods of 
Bolshevism, I want to have a definition of that word 
before I desire to be classed under it. 

Poor little spies ! They have to earn their salaries, 
so this is the sort of thing they say. A chance phrase 
in their hearing, and you are promptly labelled. You 
take tea with a charming princess who speaks a little 
English, and wants to practise on you, and you are in 
some Royalist plot ! You talk to a polished French 
diplomat with a Scottish ancestry, as I talked with 
Lieutenant Gilles of the French Embassy, and you must 
be in the pay of the French ! You entertain a sweet 
English lady who is the very lonely wife of a German 
attache and you are a pro-German ! You seek know- 
ledge from some authoritative person on one of the 
thousand questions in which you are interested, not 
knowing that he is the agent of one Government, and 

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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the spy of another Government reports you his con- 
federate ! 

During our Conference the Swiss police picked up 
in the streets of Berne a packet of papers in a language 
which they did not understand — English. Seeing the 
name of Mr. Arthur Henderson in the context they 
sent the papers to him. They purported to be a detailed 
report of one of our private meetings, a tissue of lies 
from beginning to end, with a pathetic note at the end 
asking for more money ! Mr. Henderson was at first 
annoyed, as anyone would be who took such things 
seriously ; but he preserved enough of the ironic sense 
to send the papers with his compliments to the address 
for which they were intended, the British Legation ! 

It took my breath away to learn that the staff of 
every Legation and Embassy in Berne contained scores, 
even hundreds, of men and women agents, at any rate, 
before the war when money was not so scarce. In any 
sphere of life other than those of politics and diplomacy 
such activities would wear an ugly name. By a general 
consensus of opinion in diplomatic circles such a system 
is necessary. So much the worse for a society which 
requires lying and trickery for its preservation. It is 
admitted that ninety-nine out of every hundred reports 
are entirely worthless, often misleading. It is for the 
hundredth valuable discovery that all this costly ma- 
chinery is maintained. With the system goes an enormous 
amount of corruption. Bribes are freely given and taken 
by surprising people in the most unexpected places. 

A young girl from Bohemia came to see me in the 
Belle Vue Hotel. I invited her to my room where we 
could talk quietly. Ostensi^y she had come about 
child relief, in which she knew me to be actively inter- 
ested. But her talk was all of the ex-Emperor Charles, 
whom she had seen ; whose secretary, with the assist- 
ance of a British officer whose letter she showed me, 
had helped her to get into Switzerland. I was distinctly 
puzzled. What was her game ? Was she soliciting 



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British interest in unfortunate ex-royalty ? Incredible ! 
Was she trying to make me say something which would 
result in my being sent out of Switzerland ? To this 
hour I have not the faintest idea. I never saw her 
again. She was young and very pretty, with brown 
eyes and fair hair, an English type. If she really were 
a spy she was an artist in her work, for when I spoke 
in the clear English which fifteen years of public speaking 
have developed into a habit, she held up a deprecating 
hand, answered in a whisper, and looked fearfully round. 

" We are quite alone. What is troubling you ? " 
I inquired. " Say anything you wish to say. Nobody 
will hear you. Nobody knows you are here." 

"It is not so sure," she said anxiously. " In some 
of ze bedrooms is ze machine and ze speak is heard. 
Zey listen to us. II faut que nous parlous doucement." 



The general conduct of Conferences in Europe differs 
very greatly from the method in England. Delegates 
from the four corners of the earth come to an International 
Conference, and owing to the exigencies of travel,, it is 
quite impossible to assemble them all at exactly one 
time. They arrive in batches during the two or three 
days preceding the Conference. But it is equally im- 
possible to waste these days waiting for the late-comers, 
so the method pursued is to have a preliminary discussion 
of the questions set down in the agenda. The general 
feeling of the delegates on a particular topic, the broad 
divisions of opinion among them are known beforehand 
in this way, and the form of the final resolutions on the 
subject made easier of design. The fresh arrivals who 
join the group take up the discussion where they find it. 

When the Conference proper assembles the first thing 
done after the speech of the chairman and the announce- 
ments of the secretary is the division of the delegates 
into Commissions. Each important subject is delivered 
over to a Commission, whose duty it is to report in the 
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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

form of a resolution when a unanimous decision has 
been reached. Each country represented in the Con- 
ference is entitled to be represented on each Commission. 
The Commissions adjourn each to a separate room, elect 
a chairman (at this time a neutral), and begin business. 
The full Conference begins its deliberations with the 
presentation of the first Commission report. 

These Commissions are not committees, as might 
very well be supposed. They are the Conference in 
miniature. The speeches are as long and as fervid 
as if delivered to the full Conference. I was a member 
of the League of Nations Commission of the Second 
International, and well remember a speech of great 
eloquence upon the subject delivered by a Frenchman 
which lasted for an hour and a half ! Then followed 
two translations, English and German. I never expected 
to reach the report stage during that week or the next ! 
And there were only twelve members of this Commission. 
Delegates may not rise and speak when they wish. 
It is not the man with the loudest voice or the most 
aggressive manner, nor the one who is lucky enough to 
catch the chairman's eye, who speaks. The would-be 
orators are taken strictly in their turn. Names are sent 
up to the chairman, who calls upon each in order, and 
all are expected to speak from the platform. 

Disorderly interruptions are frequent, and sometimes 
quite terrifying. On this occasion the French and 
German Majoritaires raged at each other across the heads 
of the delegates. But then so did the French Majori- 
taires and their Minoritaires. These last were just as 
bitter and violent as the first two sections. Similarly 
with the German and Austrian Majorities and Minorities. 
When feeling ran high the hall became a veritable bear 
garden. The one astonishing thing to those of us who 
expected every minute an ink-bottle or a book to come 
hurtling across our heads at one or another of the com- 
batants, was that these furious men never came to blows. 
Infuriate rage and cheerful good humour followed each 

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other with the suddenness and regularity of sunshine 
and rain in an English April. 

But it was all very tiresome to those of us who were 
more concerned with the future than the past. Just 
when we were about to settle down, as we thought, to 
something really constructive, up would jump Albert 
Thomas, bursting with rage and quivering like a jelly, 
shaking his long hair and roaring like a mad bull ; or 
Renaudel shrieking in a high-pitched voice like the en- 
raged tenor at Covent Garden when he sees his lady-love 
in the arms of the villain ; provoking the plethoric 
Wels to an apoplectic fit of frenzy, and the angry Muller 
to an ironic reply shouted above the heads of the lesser 
partisans on either side, whose fearful and monotonous 
yells : " You are guilty ! They are guilty ! We are 
not guilty ! We are right ! You are wrong ! " almost 
made the tops of our heads come off ! . - 

Then the English delegate Stuart Bunning stepped 
quietly up to the platform. He made no brilliant speech. 
There was no attempt at eloquence. He was just as 
tired of that as the rest of us. He spoke in an even, 
level voice, making a few quiet, common-sense observa- 
tions about the object of our Conference and the need 
for getting to work. The effect was magical ! The 
storms ceased raging. The Conference quietened down. 
From that moment the idiotic charges and counter- 
charges ceased to be made. It was one of the two note- 
worthy and outstanding events of the Conference. 

But the British delegation was the most harmonious 
in the room. It was not that we had no differences of 
opinion. We had many differences ; and some of them 
were so deep that several of the delegates preferred 
not to travel with the rest. But when we got to Berne 
we kept these differences for the privacy of our own 
committee room, and endeavoured to present a united 
front in the conference hall. Only once did something 
bellicose threaten to develop amongst the Britons. 
It was when two gallant miners, who had borne with 

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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

marvellous patience the interminable speeches they 
couldn't understand, saw a jolly fight about to begin 
between two sections of the French. It was too much 
for them. They would be in at that ; and, anyhow, they 
were sick and tired. Why not have some fun and set 
the whole Conference going again. " Come on, fellows ! " 
said one of them, leaping to his feet, his ruddy face 
glowing with pleasure. " Come on, chaps ! Let's have 

a b y row ! " 

A foreign conference is certainly no picnic. It means 
very hard work for a conscientious delegate. Both 
commissions and conference sit irregular and inter- 
minable hours. There is no stopping at 5 to resume at 10 
the next morning as in England. The delegates go on 
until they finish or as long as they can keep their eyes 
open. At Berne we were sometimes debating at 2 in 
the morning. On the other hand unpunctuality is the 
besetting sin of the Continental. With him 10 o'clock 
means 11, 1 o'clock, 2 or even 3. To the British this 
is a maddening vice ; but I fear familiarity with it 
resulted in our embracing it ourselves. 



Our first meeting with the Germans took place in 
the Belle Vue Hotel three days before the Conference 
proper began. I had anticipated this meeting with 
curious and painful interest. I knew that some at 
least of the men we were to meet had opposed the war 
from the beginning, even voting against the war credits ; 
but it is curious how the separation of two nations by 
war can affect the consciousness of the individual national. 
All such feeling of hesitation and reluctance on both 
sides vanished at the sight of one another, men and 
women bound by a common aim in indissoluble bonds. 

The little group which we approached in the vestibule 
of the hotel included Herr Kautsky and his wife, and 
several Austrians I met here for the first time. The 
physical appearance of all was very touching. Kautsky 

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who was at all times frail and delicate, is now an old 
man with a fringe of white hair round his smooth and 
well-developed head. His wife is a clever, dashing woman, 
full of energy, the antithesis of her less dominating spouse. 
Both showed in a marked manner the effects of terrible 
underfeeding. The eyes were red rimmed, and the skin 
dry and of a yellowish cast. Their faces lit up with 
pleasure as we greeted them. We asked about their 
journey, and found that for two days they had travelled 
in an ice-cold train, with broken windows and tattered 
upholstery, and with no opportunity of eating warm 
food. Such was the general condition of transport 
in the countries of Central Europe at this time. Natur- 
ally the strain of the journey had added to their appear- 
ance of suffering; but I never heard them complain 
about themselves. Their instant concern was for the 
sufferings of their children, the German children, innocent 
of the war, and dying like flies from diseases which were 
the result of under-nourishment. And we were only 
too painfully aware that the blockade of Germany and 
the embargoes against Austria were our share, the British 
share, in the responsibility for this unnecessary torture 
of little children. We felt shamed in the presence of 
men who had never wavered in their opposition to their 
Government's policy, that our Government should be 
using the very weapon most conspicuous in the defeat 
of Germany three months after it was decided to lay 
down arms ! 

Kautsky is the greatest living exponent of the phil- 
osophy of Karl Marx. He is at the moment the great 
philosophic antagonist of the Bolsheviks and supporter 
of Social Democracy in Europe. He is hated with a 
deadly hatred in every part of the world by the Com- 
munists, and is denounced as a " social traitor " by 
the slavish adherents of Zinoviev and Radek, the two 
most extreme Bolsheviks in Russia. A lifetime of self- 
sacrificing devotion to the cause of Socialism has not 
saved this distinguished writer and his able wife and 

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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

collaborator from the unmerited scorn of the extremists. 
But the extremists in every land have always had more 
hatred for the colleagues from whom they differed in 
method than for the capitalist enemy, separated from 
themselves by oceans of difference in principle. On 
this the capitalist and his allies count to defer the day 
of their doom. 

Herr Seitz, who was one of the group in the hotel, 
was then President of the new Austrian Republic. I 
am quite sure from his sad expression of face and the 
tone of his conversation that he had found more pain 
and anxiety than honour and glory in his new position. 
He is a tall and strikingly handsome man of perhaps 
fifty years of age. He spoke no English, but Mr. Charles 
Roden Buxton, our gifted English interpreter, translated 
his talk for us. Again it was of the children, this time 
of the Austrian children who, if one half of what he told 
us was true, were enduring things which were a disgrace 
not only to the conquering nations but to civilization 
itself. 

I determined then and there to go to Austria to 
satisfy myself by the sight of my own eyes if such things 
could be true. Here was a matter engaging the honour 
of every Briton, for the reasons I have already given ; 
and things must be bad, I felt at a later stage, when 
even the neutral Swiss took occasion to point out to 
some of us very earnestly the real loss of prestige the 
Allied cause was suffering from what appeared to be 
the wanton destruction by famine of the helpless and 
innocent children of the ex-enemy states. "Eight 
hundred thousand children in Germany have died of 
starvation during the war " was a statement made by one 
of the German delegates during the Conference, a state- 
ment which made for a moment even the most belligerent 
delegate speechless with pity. The man who made it 
became afterwards the Chancellor of Germany, and one 
of the unhappy men compelled by superior force to 
sign a treaty at Versailles which no sane man either in 

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Germany or in England, having thought about it, 
believed for one moment that Germany could carry out. 



The Socialist Governments of Europe — Austria, 
Bavaria, Germany, Russia — entered upon their responsi- 
bilities at a time very unfortunate for themselves. The 
terrible war had left everything in ruins. The difficulties 
of restoration were so appalling that the old governing 
classes had everywhere fled, not only from the anger 
of their peoples, but from the wellnigh insuperable 
difficulties of government. The people were everywhere 
hungry. They lacked clothing. They were without 
fuel. They were full of disease and had neither medicines 
nor disinfectants with which to deal with it. Transport 
had wholly or partially broken down. Money had woe- 
fully depreciated. Trade had entirely stopped as in 
Russia, or seriously diminished by reason of blockades 
and embargoes. Prices were incredibly high. There 
were the hard conditions of the Armistice to be fulfilled. 
In addition to all this, revolution and counter-revolution, 
Red rioters and White Guards, brewed special troubles 
for their unhappy rulers, and kept their countries in a 
constant state of terror and unrest. Into this indescrib- 
able mess and muddle were tossed the Socialists by a 
newly-born will of the entire people. Who else was 
there to take the responsibility, the old rulers having 
fled ? And was it not possible that the Socialists, whose 
programme was magnificent, and who had not been 
tried, might restore them to the prosperity that had 
been destroyed by the rulers who had been tried and 
found wanting ? 

But it was precisely because they had not been tried 
that it was unfortunate for the Socialists. They had 
to make the biggest of experiments in the circumstances 
least favourable for them. They had to please their 
parties, which expected certain things of them, and satisfy 
their constituents who demanded certain others. 4 , ; They 

27 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

made mistakes. They were bound to make mistakes. 
No Government of any kind could have avoided making 
mistakes. I doubt if any alternative Government in 
any of these countries would have made fewer ; but 
the mistakes made by the Socialists were those most 
likely to provoke the reaction which has already so 
disastrously set in, the mistake of putting the party 
programme before the general interest in the face of 
the conquerors ready to smite ; and that of adopting 
the militarism of the Governments they had overthrown. 

Less than any of the Socialist Governments of Europe 
had the Austrian Government offended, largely on account 
of the firmness and moderation of its leaders, of whom 
I shall have something to say later, and of the discipline 
of the party, which is perhaps the best organized and 
best-disciplined Socialist Party in Europe. 

But a growing knowledge of all the circumstances of 
Europe made it increasingly clear why no Socialist 
Minister I have met in Europe looks happy ; unless it 
is Lenin. And I am inclined to think that even Lenin's 
merry, red eyes must be frequently shadowed in these 
days, as he sees his great experiment gradually withering 
away in the atmosphere of realism created by hungry 
workmen and angry peasants. 

The great test of a system, any system, the Communist 
system amongst others, is its power to produce healthy, 
happy men and women and keep them so. If it fails 
in that it is condemned in all. 



The German Majority Socialists did not arrive in 
Berne until some time after their comrades of the Minority. 
They had supported their Government after a fashion, 
but not by any means in the uncritical manner of the 
British Labour Movement during the first two years of 
the war. And this in spite of the fact that the Labour 
Party held a meeting in Trafalgar Square on the Saturday 
preceding the declaration of war in which it had called 

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for non-intervention ! The quarrel between the nationals 
of Germany and France was, as I have said, of the greatest 
bitterness. The German Majoritaires kept strictly to 
themselves during the whole of the Conference, probably 
shrinking from the harsh judgment which they knew 
would surely be passed upon them by their comrades 
from the enemy countries. To my mind they showed 
great courage in coming to Berne ; and the restraint 
and moderation of their ultimate actions made for a 
greater measure of unity than had been expected by 
the most sanguine. 

This small group of men were the most pathetic in 
the Conference. The last time I saw Miiller he was a 
big, broad-shouldered, stalwart man, six feet or more 
in height, and straight as a ramrod, with a fat, jolly face. 
Here he appeared stooping and shrunken, a shadow of 
his former self, his skin grey, and his lips bloodless. 
Wels looked a little better, for he is a dark man, and his 
complexion is naturally ruddy ; but his manner was 
nervous and apprehensive, and his eyes were restless 
and unhappy. Molkenbuhr, who, the year before the 
war, had attended a Labour Conference in England, 
a happy, jovial fellow, was old and feeble beyond 
recovery. 

Edouard Bernstein, the best-known figure in England 
of the pre-war Socialist Movement in Germany, an op- 
ponent of his Government's war policy, was another ghost 
of himself. He shuffled about the Conference room in 
soft slippers, his hands shaking nervously, his short- 
sighted eyes peering out of his strongly Jewish face as 
if looking for something he had lost. But he was looking 
for the faces of old friends, and exhibited an almost 
childish delight whenever he discovered one, wringing 
the hand of his friend vigorously and beginning to chat 
volubly, unmindful of the speeches which were being 
delivered or the votes which were being taken. 

" I have a son and daughter in England. They have 
been there during the war. I hope to see them in a few 

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A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

days," said the old man to me whisperingly, as he passed 
to where Mr. Macdonald was sitting. His amiable wife 
followed him about, making good his defects of memory. 
The step was very feeble, and the crisp black hair had 
grown grey. I knew when I heard the rumour that 
his colleagues would send Bernstein as Ambassador to 
England that it was but a rumour. He would never 
recover enough of vigour and health for that. 



The able lawyer Haase, attached to the pacifist 
minority, made an excellent impression upon the British 
delegates. His manner was less deprecating than that 
of the others, and he had a merry twinkle in his blue 
eye that went straight to the heart. He is dead now. 
He was shot on his way from the Reichstag by an assassin 
and died after a few days' illness. 

When the full Conference assembled on January 26 
it was found that twenty-seven countries had sent 
delegates, including the principal antagonists in the 
Great War — Germany, France, Russia and Great Britain. 
The neutrals included Holland, Sweden, and Spain. 
The secretary was Camille Huysmans of Belgium, who, 
with M. Branting and Mr. Arthur Henderson, made an 
Executive Committee of three persons. A Council and 
a Committee of Action were formed from the Conference, 
which were to meet when important decisions had to be 
made for which it was impossible to call the full Con- 
ference. And so was created the simple machinery for 
the work of rebuilding the Workers' International. 



Of the two dramatic figures who appeared at the 
International one I have already mentioned, the weird, 
arresting personality who met us at the railway station, 
who paid with his life for his simple and courageous 
speech, the Bavarian Prime Minister, Kurt Eisner. 
Of him I shall write at length on another occasion. 

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The Second International 

Here I would paint at some length another picture on 
an even larger canvas. 

We were somewhat listlessly pursuing our debates 
when suddenly there appeared on the platform a short 
square figure of a man with broad humped-up shoulders 
and a shock of fair wavy hair. He still wore his travel- 
ling coat. His short-sighted eyes peered through a pair 
of large spectacles. His nervous hands fidgeted with 
his coat. He began to speak, quietly and distinctly, 
with a slight pleasant drawl. 

It was Friedrich Adler, " the man who killed Count 
Sturgh," who made this dramatic appearance towards 
the end of the Conference. We were told he was on his 
way some days before. Then we heard he had been 
detained on the Austrian frontier by the Swiss police, 
who refused to permit him to enter Switzerland on 
account of his political crime. Curious, that the men 
who applaud William Tell and teach their children with 
pride the story of the tyrant Gessler and the apple, 
objected to the Austrian version of their national story. 
Moreover, the Emperor Charles had pardoned Adler. 
Knowing the dilatoriness of officials all hope of seeing 
him at the Conference in time to take part in the debates 
had fled. 

At the sight and sound of him the delegates sprang 
to their feet electrified. " Adler ! Adler ! " they shouted. 
For several minutes they cheered without intermission. 
Wave after wave of genuinely passionate pleasure was 
expressed in shouted greetings and thunderous applause. 
It was remarkable ; the most astonishing thing that 
happened at the Conference ! To see the French and 
German antagonists, and the Majoritaires and Minoritaires 
of the various countries allied in a moment to render 
tribute to this one man was as delightful as it was puzzling 
to the simple soul whose quarrels are not so easily set 
aside. 

But the explanation was really very simple. It was 
not what it looked like, a company of pacifists illogically 

31 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

applauding a murderer. It was the spontaneous tribute 
of his comrades of all lands to a man whose consistency 
to his ideals called for their devotion. Very few men in 
that gathering had remained true during the war to 
the central idea of the International. Henderson nad 
been a member of the British War Cabinet ; Branting 
had taken the side of the Allies ; Miiller had supported 
Germany ; Thomas had been a French " patriot " — 
all, or almost all, had taken sides and had forgotten 
their International obligations and their peace ideals 
in the overwhelming disaster of the war. Adler had 
stood firm. From the first to the last hour he had never 
faltered in his allegiance. From the first he had denounced 
the war as a crime against the peoples. And he had 
carried his party with him. The Austrian Party was 
the only Socialist Party in Europe which had denounced 
the war and defied the war-makers from the beginning 
to the end. This was one of the reasons why the Austrian 
Government did not dare to assemble Parliament upon 
the declaration of war. For more than two years of 
the war the Constitution of Austria was in abeyance. 
The Socialists and Nationalists clamoured in vain for 
the rights of the people. Force ruled. Adler decided 
that only force could upset that rule. If the man who 
represented the autocratic system were killed, it would 
be a symbolic act that would be understood by the people. 
The head of the tyrannical Government dead, the system 
would follow. So this gentle dreamer and man of letters, 
who had never before had a revolver in his hand in 
his life, went into a restaurant and shot the Austrian 
Prime Minister dead in his chair ! 

His trial became famous. His speech of defence 
lasted for more than seven hours. It was full of devas- 
tating accusations against the Government of Count 
Sturgh. The speech has become one of the greatest 
political documents in existence, and is, as I am in- 
formed, one of the masterpieces of German prose. Read- 
ing it and knowing Adler, one comes to understand why 

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The Second International 

this kind and gentle man came to kill ; and one under- 
stands how it was that in spite of that every man in 
the International rose to applaud him. 

He was sentenced to death, but the sentence was 
commuted to one of twenty years' imprisonment ; and 
just before the Austrian Revolution he was pardoned 
by the young Emperor Charles. This treatment by the 
Austrian Government of Adler is in painful contrast 
to the British Government's treatment of Roger Case- 
ment. 

There is a certain quality of poetic justice in the last 
chapter of this interesting story. A few months ago the 
ex-Emperor Charles made an attempt to recover the 
throne of Hungary. He left his place of asylum in 
Switzerland and appeared unexpectedly in Hungary. 
The inevitable happened. The armies of Czecho-Slovakia 
and Rumania were about to be set in motion. Hungary 
was menaced from all sides. The Entente expressed its 
official disapproval. The Hungarians threatened to 
revolt against the Government. Charles was obliged to 
leave the country. At a little railway station in Styria 
the royal train was held up. Eight hundred enraged 
workers threatened to capture the ex-emperor and his 
suite. Bloodshed was imminent. The man sent to 
appease the workers and save the unfortunate prince 
from the effects of his folly was Friedrich Adler. So, 
he paid the price of his pardon of three years before. 
So, the ex-monarch learnt by practical demonstration 
the value of generosity in government. 

Let no thoughtless reader imagine that Dr. Adler, 
eminent scholar and scientist, the gentlest of men in 
private life, liked doing the thing he did. He hated it ; 
but this man, Count Sturgh, stood for every tyranny. 
Adler removed him, and the long-delayed Austrian 
Parliament was called together immediately after. 

Adler's work since he was set free has been to save 
his country from the Bolshevism menacing it from 
Hungary. The wild men of his party would probably 

33 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

have preferred the Adler of the smoking revolver. Once 
an extremist always an extremist is their creed. A 
noble inconsistency is not for them. Hate is the funda- 
mental of their gospel. He was falsely charged with 
running away from his principles. But, in spite of 
everything, he maintained a moderate attitude, had the 
courage to be a coward in the estimation of the vulgar, 
and saved his suffering country from the tyranny of 
the Red, which is invariably followed by the tyranny 
of the White, both disastrous in the appalling circum- 
stances of Austria's menaced existence. 

Adler is the foremost figure in the enterprise which 
aims at bringing together the two Internationals on the 
basis of honourable compromise. A Conference of what 
is universally spoken of as " the 2| International " was re- 
cently held in Vienna. I admire the optimism of these 
people, but have little faith in the issue of their work. 
So far the compromise has the appearance of being 
that of the lion and the lamb. They will lie down 
together — the lamb inside the lion ! 

Many of the spectators at the Conference, and even 
more newspaper men expressed to me deep and bitter 
disappointment that the Conference had done so little ; 
but what did they expect ? Did they hope that a few 
Socialists from several countries could accomplish what 
President Wilson, backed by the idealism of the world, 
had failed to achieve ? Before the echo of the cannon 
had died away, did they expect this small group 
of people could have cleared the debris from the field 
and buried all the corpses ? It was a mad thought. 
The utmost that ought to have been expected was a 
beginning with the reconstruction of the great world- 
organization of workers, which is destined some day to 
make itself a terror to evil-doing Governments all the 
world over. And that we did. 

The main achievement of the Second International 
was the bringing face to face after years of agonizing 
strife men and women severed from one another, not 

34 



The Second International 

only by the compulsion of circumstances, but by wounded 
and outraged national feelings. It was a delicate and 
difficult task. But it was done. The ice was broken. 
Men breathed more freely who before had felt a tightening 
of the heart. For the future common action would 
be easier, unless the Russian Bolsheviks pursued the 
disruptive tactics of the militarists and capitalists of the 
European bourgeoisie ; and if they did so it could be 
only for a time. 

The Conference devoted itself to two outstanding 
pronouncements, although very much more was dis- 
cussed. It recognized as imperative that the German 
Majority should make clear its position, both in relation 
to its past attitude and future conduct, if the French 
were to be appeased ; and on this subject a resolution 
satisfying to both sections was eventually carried. 

In view of the amazing events taking place in 
Russia at this time, and of the reported Red Terror, 
the great body of the Conference felt it highly important 
to put the International unequivocally on the side of 
democracy as opposed to the dictatorship of Lenin and 
Trotsky, which it did in an ample resolution that did 
not neglect to congratulate Russia on the overthrow of 
the hated regime of the Czars. 

Friedrich Adler and Jean Longuet ventured to submit 
a second resolution, in which they sought a middle 
way, one they believed would be less offensive to the 
Bolsheviks. They did not want us to shut the door of 
the International in the faces of the Russian extremists 
who, they hoped, would one day return to the fold. 
They declared that too little was known about the 
Government of Lenin and Trotsky to warrant an out-and- 
out condemnation of it. Their resolution is recorded 
in the minutes. But I venture to think they must now 
be feeling that they wasted their efforts. The Russians 
have never done denouncing Longuet and those who 
think with him. And they have established their own 
International in Moscow, commonly called the Third 

35 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

International, an International governed from Russia, 
where all individuality, whether of person or nation, must 
be ruthlessly suppressed at the dictates of the govern- 
ing brain in Moscow. All attempts at an honourable 
compromise with the arbitrary Russians is doomed to 
failure. It is impossible to reconcile the irreconcilable. 
The haughty and bigoted doctrinaires of revolutionary 
Russia will continue their violent and destructive work 
of poisoning and dividing the working-class movement 
of the world, unless the age of miracles revives. 

A marked feature of the International was the immense 
number of newspaper men who attended. I am convinced 
there were more reporters than delegates in the hall. 
They were there from every land, representing every sort 
of newspaper. There were as interesting personalities 
at the Press table as on the floor of the conference hall, 
Oswald Garrison Villard, Editor of the American Nation, 
Simeon Strunsky, of the New York Evening Post, and 
Norman Angell, representing The Times newspaper, 
were amongst the ornaments of their profession present. 
Dr. Guttmann, who was the representative of the Frank- 
furter Zeitung in England before the war, was amongst 
the ablest and most sympathetic of the journalists who 
attended ; and Herr Rudolf Kommer, of the Neue 
Freie Presse. 

I may be quite wrong, but I formed the opinion as 
the result of careful observation and subsequent inquiry, 
and of a close acquaintance which has ripened into 
friendship with very many conspicuously able journalists 
abroad, that a higher standard of culture is required of 
journalists on the Continent than is expected of those 
of a similar status in this country. Perhaps I ought 
to put it a little differently. The leading lights of 
British and American journalism are of the first degree 
both in general culture and in literary attainments. 
But there appear to be two very separate and distinct 
classes of journalist in England and America : the one 
thoroughly educated, the other entirely uneducated. 

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The Second International 

I saw no such wide difference in the various ranks of 
journalism abroad. I doubt very much if there were 
one European reporter at the Conference whose standard 
of education was below that of a good university. Would 
this be so in England ? It certainly would not in America. 
In America a " good story " is wanted. In Europe a 
good argument or a witty satire is more in favour. I 
know very few journalists in Europe, though doubtless 
they exist, who would consider it serviceable to their 
journals deliberately to misinterpret a speech or mis- 
report a conference. They may make a little fun, 
employ a little irony, caricature a speaker ; but very 
few would deliberately mislead their readers on matters 
of fact. Courage in facing realities is commoner in some 
countries than in England. Our prowess is in the field, 
whether with the hunt or in the battle. 



D 37 



CHAPTER III 

THE SECOND INTERNATIONAL (concluded) 

The International had an audience, a very large and 
interested one. It sat at the back of the room, glad of 
an experience which relieved for a while the tedium of 
life in Berne. Amongst the listeners of every nation- 
ality I observed Indians with turbans and Turks wearing 
the fez. There was a beautiful dark-eyed Jewess sport- 
ing three vast links of matchless pearls. A handsome 
American woman, full of vivacity, wearing a large picture 
hat, sat next to her husband, a tall, good-looking Hun- 
garian with a clean-shaven face and an American accent 
to his excellent English. There was the faded but viva- 
cious mistress of a notorious ex-king ; two red-haired 
Greek ladies of extreme beauty ; several ambassadors ; 
a whole medley of chief secretaries ; a gang of spies of 
both sexes, and a group of well-known pacifists engaged 
on preparations for their own conference, which was timed 
to follow the International. There was Mr. William 
Bullitt of the American Peace Delegation in Paris ; 
Mr. George Lansbury, and Mr. John de Kay, famous for 
mystical millions ! Last but not least there was a sharp 
little woman unknown to any of us who sprang upon 
Mr. Macdonald like a tiger-cat. " How dare you come 
to this conference to talk to the enemies of your country ! " 
she demanded. " Aren't you ashamed of yourself, 
you and Mrs. Snowden and all the others ? " Mr. Mac- 
donald was white with anger, but he behaved like a gen- 
tleman. If the lady had said it to me I should have told 
her that it took far less courage to come and talk to an 
ex-enemy than to marry one and produce four or five 

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The Second International 

little enemies. The spiteful lady was an Englishwoman, 
and is the wife of an Austrian and the sister of a 
notorious English suffragette. She has several fine 
Austrian children ! 

There was something very interesting about those 
rabid anti-enemy people. Examine them closely and 
you found that those who hated most often did it because 
they were implicated either by birth or marriage in 
enemy associations, and felt it necessary to protest their 
loyalty as loudly and as frequently as possible. I believe 
that language also had a great deal to do with war affin- 
ities. People took the French or German side according 
to the language they had mastered ! The knowledge of 
a foreign language is a distinguished accomplishment 
in a Briton ! Protesting too much is always a mistake. 
I do not believe it has ever done the protestant one ounce 
of good. Often it has done positive harm by raising 
suspicion. I have a distinguished friend in England, 
German by birth, English by sympathies. From the 
beginning of the war he has taken the side of the Allies. 
His writings prove that unmistakably. The English 
authorities have treated him outrageously. It is a long 
and painful story. They refuse to allow him to stay in 
the country, although before the war he lived here for 
more than twenty years, owns property here, and his 
daughter was born here. He has abundant credentials 
from important people. He wants to adopt English 
citizenship. Nothing that is done to him can alter his 
devotion to this country ; and yet the Home Office is 
inexorable. There are violent pan-Germans in this 
country who are suffering less than he — gentlemen on 
whom the Peace Treaty has bestowed a new nationality ! 

One particularly tiresome day, when the air of the 
Conference hall was thick and close with human breath 
and stale tobacco smoke, and when the lions raged more 
loudly than usual, pounding the table with their fists as 
they consigned to perdition their various antagonists, 
there walked into the room an interesting figure of a man 

39 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

whom nobody could forget who had seen him once. 
He was dressed in a grey suit, which matched his silvery 
hair, and showed in a marked way the exceptional breadth 
of his powerful shoulders set upon a short and sinewy 
frame. He walked the whole length of the room with all 
the dignity and solemnity of a reigning prince come to 
review his loyal troops ; his head thrown back and his 
slightly swaying body vibrant with a self-importance 
and a quality of proprietorship more arresting than dis- 
pleasing. A closer acquaintance with him as the Con- 
ference proceeded confirmed in everybody the judgment 
formed at the first casual glance, that the lines round 
his mouth and at the corners of his bright grey-blue 
eyes betokened a keen sense of humour. 

His immense blue necktie fluttered shoulder-wards 
and marked him, in conjunction with a clean-shaven 
face, the American citizen, although it was alleged he 
was born in the East End of London. But where else 
in the world, unless in the Quartier Latin, would you find 
so much good cloth wasted on neckties as in America ? 
Like big butterflies these enormous bows repose upon 
the breasts of their wearers, as serviceable as the Stars 
and Stripes in designating the home and habitation 
of their owners. 

Mr. John de Kay was the mystery man of the Second 
International. Nobody knew whence he came nor 
whither he was going. His business in life was a secret 
never revealed. He was a mystery to a great many more 
than the delegates at the Socialist Conference. He had 
a castle in Switzerland and another in France. He had 
an estate in Mexico, and was persona grata with several 
revolutionary governments. His bust had been sculp- 
tured by Rodin. Sarah Bernhardt had appeared in 
one of his plays. He had written books on social science. 
He composed poems. He was a multi-millionaire, 
sprinkling his millions on the altar of good causes like 
talcum powder after a bath. He kept a marvellous 
suite of rooms at the Bernerhof, and ordered his dinner 

40 



The Second International 

with the pompousness of a Napoleon commanding the 
advance of an army. All these things and a thousand 
others were said of this extraordinary man ; but the 
mystery remained a mystery to the end. 

He was anxious to finance the publicity work of the 
Second International, and actually contributed large 
sums to this side of the work both in Berne and in Lucerne. 
But his larger scheme never materialized. It was dis- 
covered later that he had a habit of offering millions 
for this cause or that, to the International, to the German 
Socialist Government, to the famine children of Austria, 
to Turkey, to Hungary ; but never have I been able to 
discover that those millions were forthcoming. There 
was always some hitch in the business somewhere, some 
fantastic condition attached to the gift, or some impossible 
preliminary to carry through satisfactorily. 

He was dreadfully impatient of what he called the 
" blue-sky politics " of some Socialists. He hated equally 
the politics of the White Guard reactionaries. Strange, 
queer, haunting character, with the lion head and the 
despot manner ; time alone will tell us who you are and 
what your place in the scheme of things ; but that you 
meant to help and not to hinder the work of the Inter- 
national I am profoundly convinced. 

Mr. de Kay lost his favourite daughter a few months 
ago. She was drowned in Lake Michigan while on a 
visit to America. The mystery of her death, like the 
mystery of her father's life, is still unsolved. She lies 
still and cold in her grave. But her father flits fitfully 
in and out of the game of international politics, too 
arresting a personality to be ignored, too mysterious a 
being to be acclaimed. 



Seated in that part of the hall reserved for visitors 
was a dark-skinned Jewish lady wearing an enormous 
picture hat. It was not she of the ropes of pearls, but 
another and an older woman. She was dressed in a 

4i 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

smart black dress and wore over it a valuable sealskin 
coat. She followed the debate with a certain amount 
of interest, but her black eyes roved restlessly around 
the room in search of somebody in particular. I did not 
flatter myself that I was the person she was seeking, 
but presently a little pasteboard card was passed along 
the line to me, and looking first at the card and then at 
the visitor, I caught the smile of the picture hat lady 
and recognized an old acquaintance. She was Frau 
Rosika Schwimmer, the first woman Minister. 

The then Premier of Hungary, Count Karolyi, had 
signalized his term of office by several acts of a radical 
character, notably amongst them the appointment of 
a woman Minister to Switzerland. It was a bold thing 
to do, at such a time and in such a country, and of such 
a woman. I wish now that I had accepted the invita- 
tion to be the guest of Count Karolyi, extended to me 
in his name by his secretary and friend Herr Paul von 
Auer. Courage of this sort, which associates a man with 
feminism, is extremely rare. It would have been inter- 
esting to meet the man possessed of it. The conservatism 
of the Swiss is well known. They share with the Latin 
countries the dishonour of an unenfranchised woman- 
kind. To send to such a country the first woman Min- 
ister, and that woman a Jewess, was to challenge too 
violently the prejudices of the Swiss. The experiment 
was bound to fail. 

Frau Schwimmer's business with me was to ask my 
help with the organization of a women's conference. 
Of course, the proposal interested me ; but my mind 
travelled back to my previous association with Rosika 
and the occasion of my first meeting with her. 

It was at the Conference of the International Woman 
Suffrage Alliance of which Mrs. C. Chapman Catt is the 
President, held in London about ten years ago. Rosika 
(as everybody called her) was one of the most eloquent 
speakers in the Conference. Her style was ironic. She 
provoked shouts of laughter amongst the women by her 

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The Second International 

pungent attacks on male mankind, and her wit and 
humour made of her a general favourite as a speaker. 
She and I were thought to be as great contrasts in our 
style of speaking as in our physical appearance, and a 
favourite design of organizers was to send the two of us 
to address the same meeting. This happened two years 
later at the Opera House in Stockholm, when the grave 
and the gay of the woman's question were divided 
between the black and the blonde. 

But I never really knew Frau Schwimmer till after 
our several meetings in America. The first occasion 
was a meeting in the theatre in Lexington, Kentucky, 
where we discoursed on women and peace to a fashion- 
able audience. It says a great deal for Rosika's power 
as a public speaker, that she was able by her eloquence 
to overcome amongst those critical American women 'a 
plainly expressed distaste for her peculiar style of dress. 
She affected at that time the loose, flowing robe more 
suggestive of the boudoir than the public platform. 
Black harmonized with our mood as well as hers, for the 
war was at its height ; but the ill-fitting black gloves 
she persisted in wearing during her speech robbed her 
otherwise expressive hands of all their eloquence. 

It was to the unauthorized activity of Rosika that I 
owed my meeting with President Wilson. A propaganda 
in favour of the calling by America of a conference of 
neutral nations for continuous mediation amongst the 
belligerents was being conducted all over the United 
States, with which I found myself in full sympathy. 
America was not then in the war, and the greater part 
of her citizens appeared to be hostile to the idea of enter- 
ing. Their distaste for the war did not go the length of 
an all-round strict neutrality, economic as well as poli- 
tical ; but there was a very genuine desire in 1915 
on the part of vast numbers of American citizens to 
avoid active participation in the war, for reasons, for 
the most part, entirely honourable to themselves and 
the country. 

43 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

One afternoon in November of that year I had already 
risen to address a great theatre full of business men in 
Milwaukee on the importance of their giving the vote to 
Wisconsin women when a telegram was handed to me : 
" President Wilson will receive us at the White House 
on November 23rd. Please return at once. — Schwimmer." 

I had not the faintest conception of what it was about. 
I looked at the message and read it twice. I was unable 
to believe my eyes. I had never sought an interview 
with the President. I had no business of sufficient 
importance to warrant my seeking his presence. I have 
always had too much respect for the time of busy men 
in high office to seek to use it on matters of other than 
the gravest consequence. I was filled with annoyance at 
having been placed, without my knowledge or consent, in 
the position of an intrusive and self-important busybody. 
But there was the invitation. The arrangement had been 
made. And my one consolation lay in the thought 
that the approachableness and well-known courtesy of 
the " First Gentleman of America " had made the thing 
possible and would make it delightful. But my indig- 
nation against the " meddlesome Matties " who had so 
outrageously interfered did not cool and is alive at this 
hour. 

I had several important public engagements in Wis- 
consin and Illinois to fulfil, which I could not cancel 
without causing a vast amount of inconvenience and 
expense to organizers, so I wired that it would be a 
pleasure to attend at the White House if the meeting 
could be arranged for November 27. 

I travelled a day and a night from Chicago to New 
York, tried there to find out what it was all about, heard 
a few vague stories sufficient to let me know that it had 
to do with the peace propaganda, and left the next 
morning for Washington. I arrived in Washington at 
3 p.m. and was taken in a large automobile to one of the 
theatres where a big meeting was in full swing. Rosika 
rose to speak after I had taken my place on the platform. 

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The Second International 

Her speech froze me to my chair with its passionate 
exaggerations : " Millions and millions of people are dying 
on the battlefields and in the homes of Europe," she said, 
which since that time has become only too true. " Mil- 
lions and millions of men are praying for peace," which 
was totally untrue. If " millions and millions " of men 
in Europe had wanted peace they could have had it. 
" The soldiers of Europe are looking to you to deliver 
them " and so on. 

I had had no part in calling the meeting. I could 
only guess its purpose. I had no idea under whose 
auspices it was being held nor who was finding the money 
for it. My peace sympathies were unquestionable, but 
when I rose to speak I felt myself under a real obligation 
in the interests of truth to neutralize the impression 
made upon the minds of the audience by Rosika's 
burning words. 

" Alas ! " I said, although these may not have been 
the exact words, " I am not able to say out of my own 
experience that the men of Great Britain are praying 
for peace. On the contrary they are voluntarily enlist- 
ing in millions for what they believe to be the most 
righteous cause they have ever served. The appeal I 
make to you is not to act in the belief that you are thereby 
saving millions of unwilling men forced by cruel tyrants 
to enter a war which they hate, but by conferring with 
other neutral nations to discover some terms, honourable 
to all concerned, which shall save from what they believe 
to be the absolute necessity of killing and being killed, 
the gallant young manhood of every nation which is in 
this fight." 

The meeting over, we drove to the White House 
through a great concourse of people. Frau Schwimmer 
and myself were received by the President with the dignity 
of a grand seigneur joined to the simplicity of a plain 
American citizen. I liked him. I believed in him. 
When years later men in Europe laughed at his idealism, 
I recalled my impression of him and felt he was sincere. 

45 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

When he failed, after the first awful shock of the failure, 
I believed he had failed where no man could succeed. 
During our conversation with him his hatred of the war 
was clear. His desire to maintain the peace in America 
and restore it, if possible, to Europe was unequivocal. 
He expressed very warmly his sympathy with the idea 
of a neutral conference. But the thought of practical 
difficulties oppressed him. Would China and the South 
American Republics be invited to such a conference ? 
What should be the basis of representation ? Would such 
an effort be looked upon with favour by the fighting 
Powers ? Could anything be done except through the 
ordinary diplomatic channels ? He welcomed Lord 
Courtney's brave speech in the House of Lords and hoped 
it might be symptomatic. He looked for signs of a growing 
peace sentiment amongst the belligerents but found few. 
I agreed with him on this last point and remained silent. 
Rosika grew voluble, bitter, insulting. She hinted at 
America's munition profiteering. The President flushed 
a little and looked annoyed. 

" Surely," he said warmly, " there are such profiteers 
in other countries ? " 

We talked for half an hour or more. The great crowd 
of men and women outside stood in silent prayer for the 
success of our effort. They were mostly members of 
religious organizations ; and it was so arranged. Num- 
bers of reporters with pencils and notebooks in hand 
surrounded us and pursued us in automobiles to the hotel 
where we had taken up our quarters. Here the secret 
spring of it all was revealed ! 

In a sumptuous suite of apartments at the Great 
Washington Hotel sat the great man. And in another 
equally sumptuous sat Rosika, with her army of secre- 
taries. Her rooms were filled with costly flowers. Her 
meals were served privately by waiters specially chosen 
for the work. Messengers whose sole business appeared 
to be to attend to Frau Schwimmer's every wish ran in 
and out in a constant stream. Newspaper men waited 

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The Second International 

in the ante -room for such crumbs of news as she was 
disposed to scatter. Well-dressed and important-looking 
men and women left their cards. Busy, intense, energetic 
life thrilled through the whole of the hotel. Something 
more than the usual was afoot. What could it be ? 

It sprang from a source which kept itself hidden, 
except when at one dramatic moment in the theatre a 
thin, clean-shaven man with a keen, sensitive face leapt 
to his feet and declared in a loud, drawling voice : "I 
never made a speech before in my life. All I want to 
say" is this : We'll have those boys out of the trenches 
by Christmas." 

It was Henry Ford, the great manufacturer of auto- 
mobiles. He meant every word he said and really 
believed it possible to do what .he wished. 

It was this generous, warm-hearted man who was 
finding the money for Rosika's lavish expenditure. It 
was he who secured us the talk with President Wilson. 
It was he who had even then been involved by the 
dominating Rosika in the idea of the peace ship — the 
wonderful ship full of peacemakers which should sail 
to every neutral land in Europe and invite their 
Governments to persuade the warriors to make the 
peace. 

As an advertisement for the peace idea the scheme 
had some value ; but knowing something of the tempera- 
mental Rosika and her lack of staying power as well as 
of her extravagance, as anything more serious than 
that the plan was bound to fail. I felt an enormous pity 
for Mr. Ford, whom I failed to see after the meeting ; 
but I doubt if at that time anyone could have convinced 
him that an ambitious woman was using him and his 
dollars in the most foolish and reckless enterprise that 
was instigated through the Great War. 

I refused to have anything to do with it. I feared 
what actually happened, that the peace movement 
would be smothered in ridicule from one end of the world 
to the other, and that the reputation of sincere and able 

47 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

pacifists would be cheapened and vulgarized by this mad 
expedition to the ends of the earth of a company of indi- 
viduals whose motives were mixed and whose abilities 
were in most cases mediocre. 

What was my annoyance and astonishment when I 
boarded the ship for Liverpool the next morning to hear 
from a reporter of the New York Times who came to 
see me before sailing, that I had telephoned from Washing- 
ton a full column of eulogy of the Ford peace ship in 
the form of an interview ! I had done nothing of the sort. 
I had never had the telephone to my lips all the time I 
was in Washington. I had, moreover, travelled all night 
from Washington to be in time for my steamer the next 
morning. Someone had telephoned in my name ! 

Like the dove from the ark the gallant ship set sail 
with flying pennant ; but in a little while crept back to 
port with drooping wing, dragging in her wake broken 
spirits and bedraggled reputations. Mr. Ford left before 
the end of the tour. The domineering Rosika became 
too much for him. The greatest discontent amongst the 
passengers throughout the tour was felt owing to the 
inaccessibility of Mr. Ford, who could never be reached 
without a permit from Frau Schwimmer. " Whenever 
we tried to reach him," said one woeful and malicious 
pressman, " we found him entirely surrounded by 
Rosika ! " 

With the memory of this experience surging up I 
grew thoughtful as I looked at the little card in my hand. 
I made a cautious response to the smiles of the Hun- 
garian woman Minister. Of course, I talked to her. 
Her new position interested us all. I asked her how she 
liked being a diplomat. She told us a sorry tale of 
treachery and espionage. The drawers of her bureau 
had been rifled, her telegrams opened before they reached 
her or altered when she sent them out. Everything had 
been done to make her position impossible. We were 
sorry and indignant till we heard that she had appointed 
these scoundrels herself and had made the mistake of 

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The Second International 

having recalled many of the old Hungarian officials who 
had possessed a genuine desire to help her. 

Some of these men had declined to go, and their side 
of the story was of shameless expenditure, unbridled 
personal extravagance at the cost of a poverty-stricken 
little state, mangled by the war and the peace, and suf- 
fering incredible penury. They spoke, it may be with 
malice, of an expensive automobile, costly furs, cut 
flowers and extravagant rooms, all paid for by her un- 
happy Government, bankrupt and despairing. The 
Bolshevik Revolution occurred a few days later. 

She was recalled after a few weeks of office, having 
committed a number of political indiscretions involving 
the reputation with the Allies of at least one innocent 
and unsuspecting tool. This unfortunate lady was 
ignominiously returned to her native country. 

Frau Schwimmer is of middle age and middle height, 
with masses of crisp wavy black hair slightly tinged 
with grey. She wears large gold-rimmed spectacles, 
and has a hard, aggressive manner and a loud, dominating 
voice. In speaking she uses her hands a great deal, 
the forefinger of the right hand playing a conspicuous 
part in the enforcing of her points. She has a quick 
intelligence with a brilliant surface cleverness, is sar- 
castic and voluble, good natured and easy going. She 
has temperament, but is without stability. She is cruel 
in her thoughtlessness, but, like her race, has a deep sense 
of loyalty to her family. She is genuinely devoted to 
the cause of feminism. 



Another visitor to the International I feel constrained 
to do more than mention was Mr. Oswald Garrison Villard, 
editor of the New York Nation and a lifelong friend of 
President Wilson. Mr. Villard has a rich inheritance 
from each side of his family. He is the descendant on 
the father's side of one of the famous German revolu- 
tionaries who fled to America in 1848. His mother is 

49 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the daughter of William Lloyd Garrison of anti-slavery 
fame. 

During the visit to America, to which I have already 
referred, I met Mr. Villard and Mr. George Foster Peabody 
in the lobby of the House of Representatives in Albany. 
They apologized for not being able to attend the meeting 
of the State Legislators I was to address, as they were 
engaged on business connected importantly with the 
propaganda for keeping America out of the war. " Mr. 
Villard has just seen President Wilson — they are life- 
long and intimate friends, you know — and he has the 
impression that enormous pressure is being put upon 
the President by a section interested in dragging this 
country into the war. We are very unhappy about it," 
said Mr. Peabody. 

This does not mean that when the war broke out Mr 
Villard took neither side. His sympathies were pro- Ally 
and anti-German ; but he hated the whole bad business of 
the war and desired to end it quickly. The severe terms 
of the Armistice and the startling conduct of the Paris 
Conference caused him to react favourably towards the 
Bolshevik Government. But from various reactions, 
he has come to the settled conviction of the need for the 
revision of the Peace Treaties, and for the establishment 
of some kind of international political organization like 
the League of Nations for the securing of permanent 
peace on the earth. 

Mr. Villard is not unlike Mr. A. G. Gardiner, the pop- 
ular one-time editor of the Daily News. Both men are 
tall and fair, both fresh complexioned and blue eyed. 
Both have the same political ideals ; though I imagine 
a distinction inoffensive to both men might be made in 
expressing the view that Mr. Villard's passionate hatred 
of the wrong causes him to swing more violently to the 
right or to the left and back again whenever he delivers 
himself up to the dominion of his warm-hearted and 
generous emotions. 

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The Second International 

I met Mr. Villard in the Hotel Continental in Paris 
first, and persuaded him to come to Berne. There we 
dined together at the Vienna Cafe. 

Berne is the famous capital of Switzerland. It is a 
lovely old city with quaint fountains and coloured houses. 
It is beautifully situated on a ridge of hills, with snow- 
covered Alpine ranges in the distance, the Jungfrau, 
handsome and conspicuous, in the middle. The swift 
river girdles the town, gleaming blue and green in the 
valley below. 

There are stately new buildings in Berne, and a fine 
market square. There is the monument of the Inter- 
national Postal Union, a globe encircled by female figures 
clasping hands, representing the various races ; and there 
is the bear pit with its fascinating shaggy inhabitants ; 
but place all the attractions of Berne in one scale and the 
Wiener Cafe in the other, and the balance will sink in 
favour of the cafe, at least for those unhappy human 
beings compelled by the misfortunes of their country or 
the tragic circumstances of the Great War to spend their 
enforced exile in the restricting circumstances of a small 
Swiss city. 

To the Wiener Cafe daily went these men and women 
to eat the food so renowned for its cooking. Where was 
such delicious coffee to be found in Berne ? Where was 
there a greater variety of well-cooked and properly 
seasoned dishes ? The wine was a glory. The Hungarian 
gipsy band played bewitching music, and brought home 
near enough for tears to those who came from the lands 
of the East. 

But the Wiener Cafe drew men and women from the 
four corners of the earth for something more than its 
good food and glowing wines. They came for talk, to 
meet fellow exiles and entertain interesting strangers ; 
to discuss the terrible march of events ; to debate political 
theories ; to escape loneliness ; to hear gay music, and 
forget their sorrows in congenial fellowship. 

Mr. Rinner of the Wiener Cafe radiated a welcome 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

from his whole portly person. The waiters, always smiling 
and efficient, served you as if it were their great privilege 
to do so and not, as in so many English cafes, as though 
they were conferring a favour upon you. You never felt 
constrained to eat so fast that you choked in an effort 
to get out of the place as quickly as possible. You stayed 
hours if you desired to read or to play cards or chess. A 
second portion of every dish could be had if wanted 
without any further charge. All sorts of delightful odd 
corners, softly cushioned and conveniently partitioned, 
furthered conversation, and supplied a certain amount of 
privacy, contrasting favourably with the square horse- 
box appearance of so many eating houses in other 
places. And this is a typical good-class European 
restaurant. 

I made my first acquaintance with the Wiener Cafe 
as the guest of Mr. Rudolf Kommer. Mr. Norman 
Angell and Mr. J. R. Macdonald were of the party. 
We talked for hours of the day's happenings at the Con- 
ference, and reviewed the prospects of an early peace 
now rapidly vanishing into thin air. All the time there 
came through the glass partition the tantalizing strains 
of the 'cello and violin playing Hungarian dances. I 
had hoped to see as well as hear these gipsy musicians. 
And so it happened. The door opened and in they came 
to give us a private performance. 

Smiling, bowing, they drew near to the table, almost 
bending over it, playing softly, sweetly, merrily, the ex- 
pression of their faces interpreting the song. They had 
never studied a note of music. They played solely by 
ear. Yet they had caught the magic spirit of music, 
the soul and the rhythm of it. Their bodies swayed in 
time with the song. Their intimate black eyes invited 
to the dance. Our feet tapped time to their swaying 
forms. It was utterly joyous, abandoned, divine ! I 
hear it now : 
" Nimm Zigeuner deine Geige, lass sehn was du kannst." 

5j» "t" *i* *»* *I* 

52 



The Second International 

Our host crowned the evening's enjoyment with stories 
of the old cafe's famous habitues. At the very table 
where we were seated Lenin in exile had discussed his 
political philosophy with admirers and doubters through 
a summer's night. In the chair I occupied the volatile 
and relentless Trotsky had lounged and gossiped. The 
charming, exuberant Prince Windischgraetz and his 
beautiful wife had frequently supped there. Crownless 
kings and exiled grand dukes had played their less danger- 
ous game at the bridge-table in the corner. Poets and 
philosophers, journalists of all nations, destroyers of old 
states and architects of new, propagandists of the old 
order and spies of the new, lovely women of scandalous 
reputation, virtuous and sober citizens of Berne, delegates 
to international conferences, travellers to Paris held up on 
the way, connoisseurs of good beer — all found their way 
to this famous house of good cheer and joyous fellowship, 
and have helped Herr Rinner and the Gipsy Primas to 
make of it to thousands a memory of rich delight or of 
the haunting sorrow which is akin to joy. 

When shall I see the Wiener Cafe again ? I ask myself. 
And I know that I shall never see it as it was in those days 
of the war and the peace. All the old friends are gone. 
Even the gipsy band has fled. Perhaps there remain a 
few political exiles in Berne who find their way to the 
cafe occasionally. It may be that Dr. Ludwig Bauer, 
that amiable giant who eats at a sitting enough for four 
ordinary men and washes it down with incredible quan- 
tities of beer, calls occasionally to play a game of cards 
with a fellow-journalist, or to write his daily article in 
the little back room reserved for honoured and familiar 
guests. I do not know. All I know is that I have but 
to close my eyes and listen, and through the windows 
are wafted softly the strains from the gipsy band : 

" Nimm Zigeuner deine Geige, lass sehn was du kannst, 
Schwarzer Teufel spiel und zeige wie dein Bogen tanzt." 



S3 



CHAPTER IV 

THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS CONFERENCE (MARCH 1919) 

I have written a great deal about the annoyance and 
discomfort to which the traveller abroad was put in the 
days immediately following the Armistice; I have said 
nothing about the performance which had to be gone 
through before the journey could actually be begun. 
Some day sanity will be restored to the government of 
these affairs ; but as a matter of purely historic interest 
a record of this business will be very amusing. 

The Executive Committee of the Union of Demo- 
cratic Control (of Foreign Politics) was holding its weekly 
meeting, when a letter arrived from Dr. de Jong van 
Beek en Donk, the secretary of the Dutcr/Peace Society, 
inviting the Union to send delegates to the League of 
Nations Conference which it was proposed to hold in 
Berne early in March, 1919. It was strongly felt that no 
opportunity of forming international connexions should 
be missed. One member after another was pressed to go. 
Nobody but myself appeared to be free to do so. I had 
only just returned from Switzerland and the International. 
The journey home had been full of discouragement and 
fatigue. I was asked if I would very much mind the 
trouble and weariness of a second long journey soon. I 
said I had not the slightest objection to the journey, but 
that the thought of the passport business was rather 
daunting. It was agreed that someone in the office 
should do all that for me, and on that understanding I 
agreed to go. 

But the condition was not fulfilled. It could not be. 
Passport formalities are personal matters and only in the 

54 



The League of Nations Conference 

rarest circumstances can they be gone through by proxy. 
I had immediately to set about the task myself, and a 
terrific task it was. The date was already February 27. 
The Conference was timed to begin on March 3. Two 
days of that time I knew would be consumed in the 
journey itself. That left two for the business of pre- 
paration. I knew no human being at that time who had 
accomplished this in less than a week. Generally three 
weeks was looked upon as a fairly satisfactory minimum 
of time for this work. 

The following was the routine for a would-be traveller 
to Switzerland in the early days of 1919. 

To get a passport you filled in a long form requiring 
answers to all sorts of impertinent questions about 
yourself and your immediate ancestors, including offen- 
sive queries about your personal appearance ! You had 
to attach to the form a photograph of a particular sort 
and size. This had to be endorsed, and your passport 
signed by a magistrate or some other worthy person who 
knew you, and who would guarantee your character and 
the truthfulness of your replies. Two other persons of 
recognized social position and personal rectitude had to 
permit the use of their names as guarantors. You handed 
the completed passport form to the clerk at the passport 
office, and were generally told to call again in three or 
four days. The urgency of my case inspired me to 
enclose a letter to the chief passport officer in the fond 
hope of considerate treatment ; which to my surprise 
was granted to me. I remember that my appeal fell 
into the hands of an extremely considerate and courteous 
official. 

If you were prepared to wait on the chance that your 
business would come soon, you were given a number 
which was called out in its turn. By sitting incredible 
hours without food, unless you were wise enough to bring 
sandwiches, it was just possible that your number might 
be called unexpectedly and your business gone through 
quickly. Most people grew impatient, or could spare 

55 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

only an hour or two and left. They had to take a new 
number and a similar chance next day ; with probably 
similar ill-luck. It was of the first importance to " stick 
it out." Then when the magic number you held was 
called, you paid your fee of five shillings and went your 
way. 

After you received your passport you proceeded to 
the Swiss Legation for a visum. You had to fill in two 
forms here and attach a photograph to each of them. 
You were required to sign a paper stating you were not 
a Bolshevik, and had no dealings with them. You were 
obliged to provide a letter from the organization on 
whose business you were travelling. On the occasion 
of my third application I had to bring a certificate of 
health and a banker's letter stating that I was a person 
of substance not likely to become a charge on the Swiss 
Exchequer ! Another five shillings and the visum became 
yours. 

The next business was a British Military permit. 
This, I think, you had for nothing. But you filled in two 
more forms, attached two more photographs and waited 
long, weary hours for the calling of your number before 
you got it. I waited five hours on this occasion, and 
stood the whole of the time ! 

Lastly there was the Military Permit from the French 
to be obtained by suffering the same ghastly torments. 
For this eight shillings was the market price ! 

I regard it as one of the exploits of my life that I got 
through all this disgusting business in two days. I 
could not have done it but for the good fortune that 
threw me into the hands of considerate officials and for 
my own British pertinacity. As it was I came out of 
the French office in Bedford Square only five minutes 
before the office closed ! 

So I started by the usual early morning train to 
Folkestone, tired but triumphant, and feeling that the 
nuisances ahead of me, calculated to ruin more tempers 
and create more racial antagonisms than half a century 

56 



The League of Nations Conference 

of war, were light by comparison with that whirling rush 
from photographer to guarantor, from guarantor to pass- 
port office, from passport office to doctor, from doctor to 
banker, from banker to Legation, from Legation to 
Permit offices, with the endless filling of forms and the 
interminable aching hours of waiting which I had endured 
before the journey could begin. 

It was a madwoman's rush across sea and land. The 
Paris train was nearly two hours late. The Gare du 
Nord and the Gare de Lyon are on opposite sides of Paris. 
The wildest scrimmage for taxis took place. My lucky 
star being still in the ascendant, I secured one, hurled 
myself across Paris like a lunatic and, like a maniac, 
tossed myself and my bag into the Belgarde portion of the 
Geneva express as the train was actually signalled to leave ! 

There was no empty seat in the whole of the train. 
I had a first-class ticket, but I passed the night in the 
corridor sitting on the end of my suit-case. French 
trains are always super-heated. There had been no time 
for food in Paris. Hunger, thirst and sleeplessness made 
that night memorable to me. And as I have already 
shown, Geneva was not the end. There was the long 
wait in the city and the seven hours' journey to Berne 
to follow the sleepless night from Paris to Belgarde. 
But it is marvellous what can be done and endured if one 
is only determined enough. I drove up to the Belle Vue 
Hotel at ii o'clock on the evening of March 2 ; and the 
Conference was due to begin the following morning. 
My two fellow delegates of the Peace Council were still 
in London, although they began the passport business 
days before I knew that I was to be a delegate ; but they 
yielded to the fatal temptation to leave after waiting for 
a short time, returning at intervals to the office, instead 
of seeing the thing through. 



I had been in my room just long enough to turn the 
key in the lock when the telephone bell rang vigorously : 

57 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

"Hallo, Mrs. Snowden ! " came the cheerful voice of a 
friend. " I have just seen your name in the hotel register. 
But this is wonderful ! Come and have coffee at the 
Vienna Cafe." 

" Thank you, no," I replied. " I'm almost dead with 
fatigue. If anybody tries to keep me out of bed for five 
minutes, I'll denounce him to the police as a Bolshevik 
spy ! I'll see you in the morning. Good night." Swiss 
beds are soft and white and very comfortable. In ten 
minutes I was snugly curled up in one of the best of them, 
for the first and only time in my life grateful for the Con- 
tinental habit of unpunctuality. " That Conference is 
timed to begin at ten, but I am quite sure it will be 
eleven," was the last muttered thought as I fell soundly 
asleep. 

The sun was streaming in at the window when I awoke 
the next morning. I sprang out of bed and pulled back 
the curtain. Thick snow lay on the ground and reflected 
dazzlingly the light from the sun. The sky was a bright 
blue and without a cloud. Again the telephone bell 
rang. " There are two young ladies to see you, madam. 
Shall I ask them to wait ? " asked the hotel clerk. " No, 
send them up — and the coffee," I said, scrambling back 
into bed and wondering who on earth it could be. Two 
minutes later there followed the waiter into the room 
two pale girls about twenty years of age with soft, shy 
manners. 

" We have come to give you a welcome to the Con- 
ference and to ask you if you will be good enough to speak 
at the opening session. Dear Mrs. Snowden, we know 
how tired you must be, but it is so wonderful that you 
are here. Do please come and say a few words of greet- 
ing to us. It will make us so happy and we are very 
miserable." They were starved girls from Munich. 

" Of course," I said. " If you will leave me now, I 
will be with you in half an hour." And they left looking 
very pleased. 

This Conference was not so large as the International. 

58 



The League of Nations Conference 

There were several of the Socialists present ; but, gener- 
ally speaking, the Congress was different in its personnel 
and in the character of those present. It was more 
bourgeois in appearance. I do not say that with the 
intention of reflecting upon its quality in any offensive 
way. I have not the hatred of the bourgeois because 
he is a bourgeois, which animates some Socialists. I am 
not sure, indeed, what the word means precisely in the 
mouths of some people I know. As used by many it 
appears to mean a man who wears a clean collar and cuts 
his hair short ; or a woman who speaks in a soft voice 
and wears a pretty dress. With such persons, educated 
manners, courtesy in debate, destroy a Socialist's 
bona fides ; whilst well-cut finger nails and a pair of 
white cuffs positively mark him down as a " social 
traitor." I am not joking. I am stating a literal fact. 
With these solemn idiots the bourgeois is a man who 
keeps his family respectable and goes to church on Sunday. 
He is a man who retains some affection for the old- 
fashioned virtues of industry and thrift. There is, for 
them, a bourgeois morality, a bourgeois mentality, a 
bourgeois faith. Radek writes of the necessity of de- 
stroying the bourgeois institutions of religion, the 
family and private property. Lenin jeers at the bourgeois 
idea of liberty. To be middle-class is to be bourgeois, 
even if you have to work hard for a living. To take a 
pride in clean table-linen is bourgeois. To delight in 
a daily bath is bourgeois. And to be bourgeois is to 
be condemned by this class of " superior " person in 
Socialist circles. It is all so very silly — and so very young ! 
The delegates to the League of Nations Conference 
were in the main professional people, lawyers, professors, 
doctors, teachers, journalists. One or two were aristo- 
cratically connected — Count Max Montgelas, for instance 
— and there were two or three generals. But the same 
features marked this Conference as the other. The Ger- 
man and the Austrian delegates looked hungry and ill- 
nourished. All that I have said of the German Socialists — 

59 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the dry grey skin stretched tightly over the bones, the 
bloodshot eyes, the pale lips, the thin nervous hands — 
was true of the men and women who confronted me as I 
spoke on that glorious March morning. It was a very 
pitiful sight and told eloquently of what the German 
people had had to endure up to the time their rulers 
fled before the indignant revolutionaries. 

I was very happy to have arrived in time to give the 
greetings from the two organizations I represented, the 
National Peace Council and the Union of Democratic 
Control, and to be able to promise them the presence in 
a few days of my two colleagues, Miss Joan Fry and 
Mrs. Charles Roden Buxton. 

Miss Joan Fry is one of the daughters of the late Sir 
Edward Fry. She is an active member of the Society of 
Friends. She came to the Conference to testify to her 
foreign friends of the same religious persuasion as her- 
self the solidarity with themselves of the like-minded 
women and men of Great Britain. She made several 
speeches of deep spiritual power which were well received 
by the delegates. 

Mrs. Charles Roden Buxton, the daughter of the late 
Professor Jebb, is also a Quaker. She has two very 
lovely children whom she adores, and the knowledge of 
Europe's suffering children moved her to come to Berne, 
not only to attend the Conference, but to see what might 
be done immediately to send aid to the little sufferers in 
Vienna. During the weeks we were in Switzerland, she 
and I (but chiefly she) did what we could to start an 
international organization for child relief. It was a diffi- 
cult piece of work. The Swiss were apt to be afraid of 
doing anything which would seem to violate the principle 
of neutrality, although I am sure they never faltered 
in their desire to help. The Austrians were incapable, 
through suffering, of very energetic co-operation. The 
French were intransigeant at the time. Also, it was 
very difficult to avoid falling into the hands of the selfish 
and unscrupulous, never deterred from their habit of 

60 



The League of Nations Conference 

exploitation by the thought of the poor people they were 
robbing. We were warned of this man and that woman. 
This man was buying in a certain expensive market for 
reasons of his own ; that woman was taking a fat com- 
mission for securing contracts for goods to be bought 
with our funds ! 

The Vienna children were dying for lack of fats. 
Mrs. Buxton determined to send them a truck load 
of cod-liver oil at once, preserved milk and milk 
chocolate to follow. She pledged the greater part of 
her private fortune in order that its going might be 
expedited. It is almost inconceivable how many diffi- 
culties were placed in the way of its going by the autho- 
rities, in spite of the generous act of Mrs. Buxton which 
satisfied the business interests. Endless delays for no 
obvious reason ; endless calls on dilatory officials ; 
endless pleadings with suspicious legations ; endless 
regulations to be subscribed to, and finally the prob- 
ability that it would never arrive at its destination. 
A military guard had to be provided to go with the train. 
Incredible though it may seem, at that time, and even 
now, not only goods travelling by train but whole trucks, 
down to the wheels and the buffers, have entirely vanished 
during transit, and not a rivet or a plank has been traced. 
How it is done is a matter of wild conjecture. But no 
valuable stores were ever sent by train in that part of 
Europe without a strong military guard. 

Out of Mrs. Buxton's noble efforts in Switzerland and 
those of her devoted sister in England, Miss Eglantyne 
Jebb, has evolved the Save the Children Fund, the British 
branch of which alone under the chairmanship of Lord 
Weardale has, since its inception, raised nearly one 
million pounds of English money for the relief of child- 
life in the famine areas of Europe. The fund does not 
itself administer, but allots to Relief Organizations 
already in existence if satisfied with their work and their 
workers. Its great hope and desire is to continue in 
existence after the pressing needs created by the war 

61 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

have been met ; to unite, not only in this country but 
all over the world, so as to prevent waste and over- 
lapping and to get the maximum of efficiency out of the 
workers, the organizations of all kinds connected with 
the nurture and protection of children in all lands. I am 
neither a prophet nor the child of a prophet, but I venture 
to think that when the history of these times comes to 
be written, the work of the Save the Children Fund will 
be regarded as one of the redeeming features of a situa- 
tion otherwise black and wellnigh hopeless. 

The other bright gleam on the dark sky-line of Euro- 
pean politics in these years will be the Society of Friends. 
The Quakers have done infinite things for the relief of 
distress in Europe. A gallant young soldier told me of 
the strength he received whenever he saw set up on a 
hut somewhere in France, " Societe des Amis." In 
every big city and in countless little villages of Europe 
their work has been quietly and persistently carried on, 
without noise and self-advertisement, with no looking 
for praise, and no expectation of reward. It began with 
the war. It has been carried on during the peace. 
Many workers have died of their labours, poisoned with 
typhus germs or collapsed from overwork. Hundreds 
of thousands of sufferers will live to bless them, who would 
have died but for their work. Countless little children 
have been saved alive or preserved from stunted manhood 
or womanhood through them. Their selfless devotion 
has softened the cruel impressions made by the war. 
Their presence amongst the defeated has saved from utter 
hate and despair many of those who pictured the foe to 
themselves as wholly given up to revenge. To the 
Friends must be given the credit for the preservation of 
such little faith and idealism as may still be left in Europe. 



The purpose of this Conference as of the other was 
the creation of machinery which should aid in the preser- 
vation of international peace. It was met to give support 

62 



The League of Nations Conference 

in particular to the League of Nations idea. It sought 
to suggest such points for the Charter issued from Paris 
as would make of the League of Nations a real and vital 
thing, Without going into the discussions at great length 
it may be briefly stated that the Conference recommended 
the inclusion of all nations within the League, all-round 
disarmament consistent with the preservation of internal 
order, and a thoroughly democratic organization. The 
Peace had not yet been concluded, so that the delegates 
were not influenced in their conclusions by the astound- 
ing deviations from the Fourteen Points which that peace 
was so soon to reveal. They were in the mood of wishing 
to join all nations in an effort to put together the pieces 
of a broken and suffering Europe. And they believed in 
President Wilson. 

One of the most interesting personalities at this Con- 
ference was Professor Brentano of Munich, the famous 
political economist. I was coming down the stairs 
leading from the conference hall to the street when a hand- 
some old man with white hair and a keen face stopped 
and addressed me. He had a nervous and slightly de- 
precating manner, stooped a little, and showed pitiful 
signs of under-nourishment in his pale face and rather 
tearful red eyes. He found it difficult to speak without 
emotion of the condition of things in Bavaria, and his 
voice trembled as he told of the nerve-strain under which 
the population lived, partly through anxiety about food 
and partly through fear of revolutionary disorders. 
His very obviously democratic sympathies did not reach 
quite so far as the Communist regime and the amiable but 
incompetent President Eisner. He told me that nobody 
who had food in the house, however small in amount 
or poor in quality, went to bed without feeling that his 
throat might be cut in the night by men mad with hunger, 
who knew about the little store. He showed me a 
scientific chart exhibiting in figures and curved lines the 
appalling tragedy of starving and dying children in his 
city, the city of soft church bells and beautiful pictures, 

63 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

of glorious music and fine dramatic art. It was a Munich 
girl of eighteen who told me her painful story of an elderly 
and unscrupulous admirer, who endeavoured to buy her 
with food, a common experience in the stricken lands. 

" I will give you two fresh eggs every day if you will 
be my ' friend '," he said (it was the first time I had heard 
the word " friend " used in such a sense). " I did not 
know that it was possible to be tempted to so dreadful 
a thing by anything in the world," said this poor thing, 
her pale cheeks flushing as she spoke, " but we are all 
so hungry and my mother is a sick woman. The eggs 
would have been very good for her. And an egg costs 
many, many marks with us." Her lip quivered and she 
played nervously with the edge of her shawl. " But my 
Socialist faith kept me pure. I could never have borne 
all the misery and hunger ; I should have drowned 
myself but for my belief that Socialism would do away 
with war and bring a better day for us all." 

The young Socialist Toller, who spoke out bravely 
for the young people in the Movement at the International, 
talked to me with the same bright hope in his shining eyes. 
Two or three months later he was sentenced to four 
years' detention in a fortress for leading the Red Guards 
in a revolt against the Whites. I had talked with him 
long about the need for peacemakers in our Movement, 
and then he was a sincere and unqualified pacifist. His 
Red Guard exploit puzzled me ; but it was explained to 
me that he had hoped to restrain the Red troops from 
committing excesses if he went with them, and that he 
did not actively provoke a violent attack. His release 
should be imminent — if he is not already free. 



One of the most distinguished of German pacifists who 
attended this Conference was Professor A. W. Forster. 
Dr. Forster published a letter or manifesto during the 
war which made some of us wonder if he were the 
only Christian left in Europe, so brave and strong and 

64 



The League of Nations Conference 

unequivocal was it ! He was for some years professor 
at the University of Munich ; but during the war his 
pacifist attitude enraged the nationalist students and 
members of the Faculty. His lectures were continually 
interrupted by the demonstrations of these students, 
and the atmosphere of study made utterly impossible. 
He was therefore induced to take a year's holiday on 
full pay, and retired to Switzerland to continue his paci- 
fist activities there. One cannot help contrasting this 
treatment of its distinguished pacifist citizen by Bavaria 
with the treatment accorded to the Hon. Bertrand 
Russell by the British Government. Six months in 
prison for one of the greatest intellects that ever a country 
possessed for a sentence in a magazine article which 
offended them ! It was an act which invited and excited 
the derision of the whole world of letters. 

After the Bavarian Revolution, Professor Forster 
was made Minister to Switzerland under Kurt Eisner. 
His relations with his chief were very peculiar. These 
two men were equally firm and uncompromising in their 
pacifism, but in their political policy they differed. 
Eisner, like most Germans, favoured the union 
of Austria with Germany provided the Austrians 
themselves desired it. Forster was opposed to such 
a union. In articles, interviews and speeches he fought 
against the idea, and the people of Switzerland 
enjoyed the peculiar spectacle of the Prime Minister of 
a German State and his Minister taking opposite sides 
on one of the most important issues of foreign policy then 
exciting the interest of nations ! Any other Prime Minister 
would have recalled Professor Forster. Any other 
Minister would have resigned. In spite of many re- 
monstrances received, Eisner declined to dismiss his 
Minister. His worship of free speech was so great that 
he forgot all about the common sense of politics, which 
requires that the representative in a foreign country 
of any state should either support the policy of his Govern- 
ment or be deposed. Malicious critics saw nothing but, 

65 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

duplicity in the extraordinary situation. They loudly 
and cynically averred that the two men were marching 
along two different roads to the same end ; that there 
was a good deal of pretence about the business intended 
to deceive the general public and conceal their real 
design ; that they were secretly hand in glove with one 
another. But it was not so. It was sincere comedy 
sincerely played by players who did not mean to be 
funny. It was one more demonstration of the effect of 
the supersession of government by the debating society, 
and of action by talk. I have the evidence of my own 
eyes and ears of the enthralling power of Dr. Forster's 
eloquence upon the young men of Berne and of the cap- 
tivating charm of Kurt Eisner's theorizing oratory upon 
the delegates of a great Conference ; but theories do not 
quell mutinies and dogmas do not deter the oppressor ; 
and if ever there were a time when Bavaria (and Europe) 
stood in need of practical common-sense politics it was 
during the years succeeding the war and the revolutions. 



I made one other friend from the city of Munich. 
There stepped into the lift in the Belle Vue Hotel one day, 
a tall, slender woman dressed in deep black who thanked 
me for something, I don't know what, and began then 
and there a friendship I very deeply prize. Annette 
Kolb is said to have in her veins the blood of Bavarian 
kings. I know nothing about that. I only know there 
are few women of my acquaintance who have so much 
charm of personality as Miss Kolb. She is kind and tact- 
ful^ and, of an extraordinary wit. In a dreary wilderness 
of men and women without humour she shot sparks of 
the divine fire and kept us from the deadly peril of un- 
utterable boredom on many a weary occasion. 

Annette is the child of a French mother and a German 
father. She is the perfect type of " one between the races." 
To say that her soul is torn is no flippant use of serious 
language. It is written in her face. Her emotions 

66 



The League of Nations Conference 

ebb and flow. When France was down she was pro- 
French ; now that Germany is out, she is probably pro- 
German. She wants a union in friendship of the two. 
She speaks continually of this. It is the great theme of 
her writings. She had rough treatment in Dresden when 
making a protest in public against the malignant lying 
of a certain section of the Press. Her book, " Brief e 
einer Deutsch-Franzosin " (Letters of a German-French), 
created a great stir in France and for a time was pro- 
hibited in Germany. She is a woman of most brilliant 
gifts. The intimate friend of Busoni, she is a first-rate 
musician herself. The friend also of the German poet 
Schickele she has a just appreciation of good verse, and 
writes well. She speaks several languages with the fluency 
of her native tongue, and her English is a model for many 
an Englishman. 

There was one name on the list of delegates which 
attracted my special interest, Andreas Latzko, the author 
of the book which caused such a world-wide sensation, 
" Men in Battle." 

" What is Latzko like ? " I asked a friend. 

" Latzko is a pacifist monkey of Hungarian birth," 
replied this complimentary individual. Latzko is small 
and dark and vain. He makes fiery speeches with 
nothing much in them except emotion. I should say his 
experiences in the trenches have seriously impaired his 
constitution and his nerve. He gives the impression of 
being neurotic and erratic. He is very self-absorbed. 
I must tell of a curious experience which befel, illustrative 
of Latzko's temperament and character. A friend and 
I were supping at the hotel where he lodged. Presently 
came a message from Latzko's son begging that we would 
call and see his father. He was seriously ill in bed. "Will 
you go ? " asked my friend. " By all means when he is 
so ill. He must have something very serious to say," 
was my reply. My companion smiled sardonically, but 
sent the boy with a message to say we would come up in 
half an hour. When we arrived we found the poor 

67 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

little man sitting up in bed, propped with pillows and 
making a great moan in a weak, strained voice. He 
thanked us effusively for coming, gasping as he spoke. 
I thought he must be dying. He spoke of his wife as of 
one who would soon be left to struggle with the wicked 
world alone. He showed us her photograph. She was 
away in Hungary. He was longing to see her. Then he 
came to the real business of the occasion. Would I call 
and see his publisher in England and find out why the 
royalties were not forthcoming. My companion grinned 
again. 

" Why are you laughing ? " I asked, rather puzzled, 
as we descended the stairs. "lam laughing at an amus- 
ing farce just played," he said. " At supper you sat 
with your back to the hotel entry. I saw Latzko enter 
during our meal, look in at the glass door furtively, 
recognize us, and rush upstairs to prepare for his part. 
The rest you know." 

" Then he is not ill," I said disgustedly, thinking of 
the pillow I had smoothed, and the tenderness I had 
wasted. 

" Oh yes, he is ill, very ill ; but not in the way you 
think," was the slow reply. "He is sick of self-love." 

One more interesting delegate at this Conference 
comes to my remembrance, Professor Nicolai, a slight, fair 
man with hair pushed back over a large forehead, and a 
thin, small chin. He presented rather a limp appearance, 
doubtless due in part to under-feeding, but a little also 
to the radical idealist's too-frequent inattention to matters 
of the toilet. His collar had a greyish look and his cuffs 
were not there ! 

Dr. Nicolai enjoys the distinction of being the first 
person to establish the war against war on a scientific 
basis. His " Biology of War " is an arresting and most 
valuable contribution to the literature of the movement. 
During the war he was constantly coming into collision 
with the German authorities for his pacifist utterances. 
He was several times tried for his offences, sentenced to 

68 



The League of Nations Conference 

prison, retried and tried again. The Government never 
actually imprisoned him. Such cases as his and Dr, 
Forster's are worthy of note for two reasons. There are 
many people in England who believe that no voice was 
raised against the war and the war policy of 
the German Government by Germans in Germany 
during the war. This is demonstrated untrue. Then 
the comparatively mild treatment by the German 
authorities of their pacifist professors is interesting in 
view of the reputed intolerance of the German war-lords 
for those not of their own political breed. In 1918 
Dr. Nicolai escaped to Denmark in an aeroplane, but is 
now back in his chair at the University of Berlin. There 
he is the centre of vicious attacks by reactionary pro- 
fessors, who pit against his new, their old, hoping the 
turn of the wheel will bring back the old order to the 
Fatherland. 



The Conference and its several Commissions sat for 
three weeks. There were many occasions for social 
intercourse between the various sessions. The hotel 
was packed with interesting personalities. In view of 
his elevated position as Prime Minister of Hungary, I 
recall with interest my meeting with Count Teleki. He 
was presented to me as a moderate Socialist. It all 
depends upon definition. At that time the Bolsheviks 
were in power in Hungary. By comparison with Bela 
Kun I imagine Count Teleki sincerely believed himself a 
moderate Socialist. Or perhaps I took seriously what was 
intended for a joke. Perhaps it was one of those insin- 
cerities of speech, uttered to please and without the 
slightest regard to the truth, I found so common in the 
nationals of Latin and Balkan countries. Count Teleki's 
present behaviour suggests the aristocratic reactionary 
rather than the Socialist. He is said to have aided 
Kaiser Karl in his ill-timed escapade. But in the Hotel 
Belle Vue at the brilliant dinner table he was the charm- 
f 69 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

ing, cynical, cultivated friend of political saint and sinner 
alike ; a scientist in exile ; a professor without a chair ; 
a patriot without a country ; a good fellow and a jolly 
companion. He is a man of moderate height, with thin 
features and a clean-shaven face. He is not unlike 
Mr. Bertrand Russell in appearance, and is probably 
not more than forty years of age. From my conver- 
sation with him I cannot imagine for a moment that he 
is in sympathy with the action of the Hungarian ex- 
tremists, who have instituted a " White Terror " worse 
than the Red since the fall of Bela Kun and his asso- 
ciates. And I think it only fair in this connexion to say 
that every Hungarian with whom I spoke in Berne agreed 
that Bela Kun himself was no sympathizer with the 
behaviour of his own extremists. He suffered the com- 
mon fate of rulers tossed up by violent revolutions — the 
poisonous association of worse and stronger men than 
himself. 



There was presented to me one day in the lobby of 
the hotel a tall thin man with laughing eyes and an en- 
gaging boyish manner, who had just challenged Fate by 
dashing at break-neck speed from Geneva to Berne in a 
powerful motor-car. His English was halting but per- 
fectly intelligible, and he had a way of insinuating himself 
into the regard of a stranger which reminded one of the 
wiles of the " White-headed Boy." It was Prince Lud- 
wig Windischgraetz, the Winston Churchill of Hungary ; 
the gay, irresponsible hero of a thousand romances, 
military, political and human. He is only thirty-eight 
years of age, but he has had a very full life, and has held 
positions of great responsibility in his country's public 
life. At the time of the Conference in Budapest of the 
National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies he was 
one of the distinguished champions of votes for women. 
He was very much concerned that I should understand 
that he was a sincere democrat. I remember with some 

70 



The League of Nations Conference 

amusement at a lunch, where he and his wife, Mr. Rudolf 
Kommer and myself formed the party, taking his side 
most heartily in a hot discussion on the relative value of 
autocracy and democracy. He, the kinsman of kings, was 
all for democracy. Who was against it must be inferred. 
But the Prince was very much in earnest. 

His memoirs, which are to be published in English 
very soon, will be interesting reading if they are anything 
like complete, for the adventures of this temperamental 
romanticist, this gallant and not too discreet patriot, 
this reckless and warm-hearted young aristocrat have 
been many and varied. Recklessness in politics is a 
dangerous thing ; but Prince Windischgraetz has the 
personality which reminds one how mean a thing dis- 
cretion can be. I have not the slightest doubt in my 
own mind that Prince Ludwig Windischgraetz was the 
prime instigator and organizer of the Kaiser Karl 
exploit. 

But the Prince's greatest romance is surely his wife. 
Princess Maria Windischgraetz is one of the loveliest 
women I have ever seen. Her beauty is of the English 
type : fair skin, golden hair and blue eyes. She is one of 
the few women outside feminist and Socialist circles I met 
on the Continent whose gaze is frank, and who leaves the 
impression of a decent attitude towards men. I wearied 
of it almost before I understood the sex-game as it is 
played in the cosmopolitan cities of Europe (doubtless 
of this country also). The insolent, sidelong look, the 
provocative dress, the tasteless conversation and gross 
manners of the women habituees of fashionable cafes 
and big continental hotels are a weariness of the flesh 
to the self-respecting. A relief it was after the hectic 
atmosphere of the hotel reception-rooms to meet this 
sweet Hungarian mother of rive beautiful children who 
looks like a girl, and hear her unaffected talk about her 
home and her country. She very modestly claimed no 
understanding of politics ; but had she had the power 
she knew enough and felt rightly enough to have saved 

7i 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

her country from the pit into which politicians with more 
experience but less common sense had let it fall. 

We met several times, each occasion happier than the 
last. From entirely different worlds, I think she would 
agree that we understood each other and held many ideas 
in common. I remember one meeting with peculiar 
tenderness. We were the guests of Mr. Rudolf Kommer 
on the Gurten-kulm. After dinner we walked through 
the trees to see the moonlight on the Bernese Alps. I 
tried to comfort her with prophecies that all would be well 
with Hungary one day if Hungary did not lose faith in 
herself. " And when that day comes, do not, I beg of 
you, copy the methods you deplore in the Bolsheviks, 
establishing a White Terror instead of a Red. Someone 
has got to take a stand against the iniquities and cruelties 
of terrorism. Let those to whom more has been given 
do that, the educated, the rich, the aristocratic." 

I do not know what part, if any, Princess Maria has 
played in the recent politics of Hungary. Her estates 
have been restored to her ; her country is hers once more. 
Whether or not she approved of the insane policy which 
has treated simple Trade Unionists and Co-operators as 
Bolsheviks, and still strikes discriminating blows at the 
poor Jews, I am not able to say. Probably not. But 
she said to me when I begged her to take up the cause 
of women in Hungary : " I have five children to care for 
and a husband to look after. I have little time for 
politics." 

Princess Maritza von Liechtenstein is another beautiful 
blonde who was living in Berne at the time of the Con- 
ference. She is stronger looking than Princess Windisch- 
graetz, and more vigorous and active. Her English is 
amazingly perfect. She is the daughter of Count Geza 
Andrassy, the Hungarian patriot, and the: mother of 
five or six handsome boys. She bitterly blamed Count 
Karolyi for having let loose the flood of Bolshevism upon 
Hungary, especially criticizing his land policy and the 
break up of the big estates. She evinced considerable 

72 



The League of Nations Conference 

interest in English politics. So did her distinguished 
uncle. Both confessed to a real liking for England 
which I believe was quite genuine. Count Andrassy 
appeared much broken by his country's afflictions. In 
appearance he struck me as a refined edition of Thomas 
Carlyle in his later years. He has grey hair with touches 
of white, a square forehead, shaggy eyebrows, clear-cut 
features, a slightly stooping figure. A striking re- 
semblance to my own father attracted me. He walked 
about the hotel full, as one could see, of grave pre-occu- 
pation : not too occupied to save a woman from a mis- 
take ! I was taking tea with him and one other when the 
concierge brought to me a note from a man who claimed 
a mutual friendship with a highly respected friend of my 
own. This man in his wife's name invited me to his home. 
I had never heard of the man. I read the name aloud. 
Count Andrassy suggested that I would be wise to 
decline the invitation, which I did. I afterwards dis- 
covered how right he was ! 

Prince Johann von Liechtenstein, the father of the 
six splendid boys, is a tall, grave, elegant man with blue 
eyes, black-fringed, and a reserved and earnest manner. 
Soft and slow of speech, without a trace of self-assertive- 
ness, he made a friend of all with whom he came into 
contact. 



Before leaving Berne I paid a visit of investigation 
to a camp for hungry Austrian children at Frutigen, on 
the invitation of Baroness von Einam, who ran the camp. 
This extraordinary woman collected incredible sums of 
money and organized this camp whilst other people were 
busy thinking about it. There in the Swiss mountains 
for seven weeks each, five or six hundred starving little 
Austrians lived. They were housed in the smaller hotels. 
Their teachers came with them. The villagers told us 
in answer to our questions that when the children first 
came nobody knew they were there, they crept about so 

73 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

languidly and quietly. The second week they began to 
sing and run about. The third week they tore the air 
with their happy yells. When we saw them they were 
about to go home. They looked rosy and brown and jolly. 
They had played in the fields all the morning. For us 
they were going to sing and dance. Their costumes were 
of paper, but very prettily made. And they went 
through their exercises with great grace and beauty. 
One incident only marred the day's proceedings. A little 
girl had written to Vienna complaining that her teacher 
ate all her food. She was brought before Baroness 
Einam. The teacher, a red-faced girl of over-fed appear- 
ance, feeling herself wronged, rushed at the pale child as 
if to strangle her. The girl was stubborn and refused to 
make amends. What was done to the little Bolshevik I 
don't know. But it was gratifying to the organizers 
of the scheme, and very interesting to us to discover that 
the kindly Swiss peasants grew so attached to the little 
Austrians that when the time came for them to go home 
they offered to keep them all until the next Austrian 
harvest. 

We drove home through the lovely Swiss scenery in 
the cool evening air. But what obtrudes on the 
mind to spoil the memory of that drive ? The six luck- 
less idiots, with vacant faces and staring eyes, the dis- 
figuring goitre thickening their poor throats, we counted 
on the roadside before we were out of sight of the little 
mountain town. 



74 



CHAPTER V 

THE CONFERENCE OF WOMEN AT ZURICH (JUNE, I919) 

The Women's International League for Permanent 
Peace came into existence during the war. It was founded 
by that section of the National Union of Women's 
Suffrage Societies which withdrew from the parent or- 
ganization because it felt that the attitude of the Union 
to the war was compromising too seriously the reputation 
of its members for clear and calm thinking and con- 
structive enterprise. Neutrality for an individual on 
questions related to the war was very difficult ; for 
an organization it proved impossible. The educated 
women of the great women's Union were quite un- 
able to agree to differ on such matters as the causes 
and conduct and remedy for this and all wars. Some 
had to resign. The pacifists did so and formed their own 
organization. | They included many of the best and most 
devoted workers for women's causes in the country, 
such as Councillor Margaret Ashton and Miss Maude 
Roy den. The broad line of division between these 
two sets of equally able women, now happily friends again, 
was nationalistic. " My country, right or wrong," and 
" Let us get down to root causes," are probably the 
phrases that represented fairly the different lines of 
action. Although in the Women's International League 
there were many who believed with the others that right 
in this conflict lay wholly with this country, they differed 
in believing that the war should not be pursued to the 
knock-out blow, but should be ended as speedily as 
possible by the peaceful method of negotiation, if that 
were possible. But it is only fair to say that in their 

^5 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

ultimate hopes and desires for permanent peace the two 
organizations do not differ by so much as a hair's breadth. 
The Women's International League held its first Con- 
ference at the Hague in April of 1915. Immense diffi- 
culties blocked the way to the holding of this Conference. 
The British Government obstinately withheld passports 
till the last moment. These were finally granted with 
extreme reluctance, and more than a hundred women 
from Great Britain prepared to attend. Many of them 
actually reached Tilbury, bag in hand, ready to step on 
board, when the news came that the Channel had been 
closed and the ship would not sail. Many women to 
this hour are convinced that the closing of the Channel 
was a deliberate act on the part of the Government to 
prevent those women attending the Conference. I am 
inclined to think that the reason given was the correct 
one, that there were naval engagements actually begun 
or feared, which absolutely necessitated the stoppage of 
ordinary traffic. It would be altogether too encouraging 
to believe that the activities of a few women had such 
power to determine the conduct of the Government at 
such a time ; and too flattering to imagine that our 
influence was of such consequence that this indirect 
method of achieving its will must in wisdom be adopted 
by the Government. 

Only two British women were present at the Confer- 
ence, the two who had gone to the Hague some weeks before 
to help with the organization. Forty American women, 
including the chairman, Miss Jane Addams, crossed the 
Atlantic to attend. Both German and Belgian women 
were present, and women from several other European 
countries contrived to attend in spite of the difficulties 
of travel which beset them. The Conference accom- 
plished nothing of a material character, but it gave moral 
courage to those who were there, and directed the thought 
and activity of thousands of women throughout the 
world at a time when most people were feeling too 
intensely to be able to think clearly. 

76 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

Miss Jane Addams, the President of the Women's 
International League, is a very remarkable international 
figure. She is a tiny woman of sweet Quaker aspect, 
with her hair parted in the middle and brushed smoothly 
back from her ears. She has large sad eyes which look 
as though the pain of living were too great to be borne, 
so acutely does her sensitive spirit react to the suffering 
and injustice in the world. Her dress is simple. Her 
manner is calm and dignified, but tender to the young 
and needy, inviting confidence but not frivolity. She is, 
notwithstanding the general seriousness of her manner, 
full of humour, and can laugh with the best at a piece 
of genuine fun. The first time I visited America I sought 
her at Hull House, Chicago, the chief monument to her 
life's labours. " You must go and see the greatest man 
in America," said John Burns to me just before I sailed. 
" You mean President Roosevelt ? " I queried. " I 
mean Jane Addams," he replied. " The greatest man in 
America is a woman." There are those who think they 
pay the highest compliment to a woman who speak of 
her greatness as of that of a man. My friend Dr. Anna 
Shaw told me that she was once introduced to an audience 
asa" very great woman — a woman with the brain of a 
man." The Rev. Anna rose with a mischievous smile 
twitching the corners of her mouth, and in a drawling 
voice began : " Before I can take that as a compliment, 
Mr. Chairman, I want to see the man whose brain I've 
got ! " 

Jane Addams is indeed great with her own woman's 
greatness, great with the greatness of pure goodness 
and intense and loving sympathies joined to more than 
ordinary powers of organization. Hull House was the 
first great Settlement House in Chicago. It was meant 
primarily to minister to the social and intellectual needs 
of the crowds of immigrant citizens flowing continually 
into the city. It comprises club houses for both sexes 
and all ages, a restaurant, a hospital, a gymnasium, 
baths, workrooms, library — everything, in short, which 

77 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

is necessary to make life tolerable in a dreary neighbour- 
hood devoid of any of the amenities and most of the 
decencies of ordinary civilization. 

The district round Hull House is filled with Greeks, 
Italians, Bulgarians, Czechs, Poles, Russians, Lithu- 
anians — a little Europe. Most of these people speak no 
English when they arrive. The young ones learn it 
quickly ; the old ones slowly, or not at all. The young 
ones adopt American clothes, American manners, Ameri- 
can slang ; the old folk, particularly the women, keep 
as long as they can to their picturesque native dress. 
The young people turn up their noses at the old folk ; 
the old people are lonely and miserable. Family life 
becomes threatened in many a home. Miss Addams 
noticed this. She established a workroom with primitive 
spinning wheels and weaving frames. She gathered the 
old people into this room to work at their native craft. 
She praised their work. She sold it for good prices. 
She brought rich citizens of Chicago to look at the work 
and admire it. The old people recovered their self- 
respect. The young people became subdued. Good 
feeling was restored and many a family made happy 
again. By such simple devices did Jane Addams make 
herself beloved of the poor and her international work 
of real account. 

Miss Addams is, I am told, of Quaker ancestry, highly 
educated, and the friend of the elite of America. During 
the war she shared with others the pain of misunder- 
standing and abuse. I caught a glimpse of her suffering 
at the Kingsway Hall when she told of her work in Chicago 
in the early days of the war — five hundred bright Italian 
boys marching past Hull House to entrain for the war, 
followed by an equal number of young Bulgarians on 
the same errand, friends and brothers of the Settlement, 
soon to fall before one another's fire in a war for which 
they were in no way responsible, and for reasons which 
they could not understand. Jane Addams's mission of 
peace to many of the Courts of Europe was the outcome 

78 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

of a deep compassion for the young victims of war based 
upon experiences like this. 

Her association with the peace ship was unfortunate, 
and her general attitude to the war caused her to suffer 
the unpopularity which all nonconformists must endure. 
But history will right her and them. 



It was felt desirable after the Armistice to hold a 
second conference of the League in order to gather up 
the broken strands of international friendship and 
activity. During the League of Nations Conference in 
Berne a joint meeting of the women delegates and the 
officers of the Swiss branch of the Women's International 
League was held to discuss the possibility of holding 
the Conference in Switzerland. The Swiss women were 
willing if the Swiss authorities would permit it and if 
help could be given them with the organization. I 
wired to Mrs. Swanwick, the British President, and satis- 
factory promises of help having been received, it was 
agreed that the Conference should be held in Zurich in 
June of 1919. All Europe was despairing of the Peace 
Treaty not yet published, and the delays were felt in- 
creasingly to be full of bad omen. Our Conference 
opened in brilliant sunshine amidst the gloomiest of 
fears. 

Zurich is, like all Swiss cities, a model of bright clean- 
liness, its streets filled with flowers in the summer, its sur- 
roundings of wood and mountains a physical glory and a 
spiritual delight. And to add to it all there is the won- 
derful lake — truly a city for inspiration, if inspiration is 
anywhere to be felt in times like these. 

I travelled in advance of my fellow-delegates, having 
preliminary business in Berne. During the previous 
Conference many lonely people, unable to reach their 
friends, had given me commissions in Paris and London, 
and I felt obliged to return to report the results. For 
example : I was writing a letter in the lounge of the 

79 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Belle Vue Hotel when a beautiful little girl of twelve, 
with long fair hair and pink cheeks, came and spoke to 
me in perfect English. I was informed that she was a 
German child and that she enjoyed a distinguished 
name — von Kleist. I discovered later that she had a 
beautiful American mother, which accounted for her 
English, and that her father, Major von Kleist, was a 
prisoner of war in England. In reply to a wistful ques- 
tion I offered to see the father and convey greetings 
from the mother and child. The British authorities at 
home were as reasonable and generous as I have usually 
found them in all personal relationships, and I received 
permission to visit Major von Kleist in Skipton intern- 
ment camp. He was glad to see someone who had so 
recently seen his wife and daughter, and who could 
testify from sight to their health and well-being. 

On another occasion came two cultivated Jews from 
Czernowitz who had a mission to the Jewish Commis- 
sioners to the Paris Peace Conference. They could not 
get their visa and were in great trouble. The Zionist 
case would suffer if its supporters could not be heard. 
Would I help them by conveying their written statement 
to Paris ? I knew Rabbi Wise, the Chief Commissioner, 
and engaged to take these papers to him. On reaching 
Paris I discovered that Rabbi Wise had returned to 
America, but delivered the document to his able sub- 
stitute. 

Then there were those who were working for the 
Siberian prisoners. Terrible stories were told of the 
sufferings of these wretched men — become nobody's 
concern with the withdrawal of Russia from the war 
and the anarchy consequent upon the Revolution there. 
No fewer than a quarter of a million, chiefly Austrians 
and Hungarians, were left to starve and die in internment 
camps in conditions which beggar description. Some 
joined the Bolsheviks. Some escaped and died on the 
way home. Some were told to go, and fought, begged, 
stole their way to the Polish frontier, only to be told 

80 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

they could go no farther. A few, of a stronger breed, 
reached home in rags, to tell harrowing stories of in- 
credible suffering. The Allies were petitioned to help 
with money and ships. They were begged to intercede 
with the Poles to allow the wretched men under proper 
control to cross the frontier. It was sought to get ships 
at Vladivostock to take them round the other way. 
The Hungarian Red Cross had a petition for President 
Wilson. Would I take it ? I agreed to do so, and 
placed it in the hands of Colonel House. The men left 
alive have since been repatriated by the League of 
Nations, through the efforts of Dr. Nansen. 

There were other and less important matters to 
report : The delivery of letters from Baron Szilassy 
and his sister to their friends in Huddersfield. Baron 
Szilassy was the newly appointed Hungarian Minister 
in Berne, and his sister is a fresh, good-natured girl, 
English in type. Both spoke excellent English. 

So I travelled by Berne en route for Zurich, happy to 
be the bearer of many kind messages to lonely and miser- 
able people. When I arrived in Zurich most of the British 
delegates had not arrived owing to passport troubles ; 
but they appeared before the Conference began. 



Mrs. Swanwick, the President of the British branch 
of the Women's International League, is one of the most 
commanding personalities of the women's movement. 
She is slender and fair, with a delightful boyish mop of 
pale gold hair which curls up at the ends, and sky blue 
eyes. She is a person of quite extraordinary intellectual 
power, a little lacking in tenderness to those of lesser 
calibre. She finds it extremely difficult to obey the scrip- 
tural injunction to " suffer fools gladly." She is apt to 
take strong prejudices against people, which is annoying 
to herself, since it is inconsistent with her own standard 
of intellect and the conduct she demands of other people ; 
but she has very good judgment in most affairs, and I 

81 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

should not be surprised to discover that in her prejudices 
she is generally right. Her courage, both physical and 
moral, is of the very first order and beyond all praise. 
She is very delicate and yet contrives to do the work of 
three people. And like many another, she staked every- 
thing except her self-respect when she took a public 
stand against the ignorant hatreds of the war. She is full 
of artistic appreciation, hates cant and humbug, and is 
devoted to practical things and persons. She is a very 
consistent and intrepid feminist, but happily devoid of 
the anti-man bias which is the mark of the feminist fool ! 

At the first session of the Conference, tender-hearted 
Isabella Ford flitted from one woman to another, 
busying herself in particular with the frail and underfed 
women from the ex-enemy lands, saying here and there 
the comforting helpful word to lonely souls inclined to 
a half -bitterness. There was one pathetic little creature 
from Vienna, since dead from privation, whose poor hands 
and face were a mass of festering sores left by the cold 
and under-nourishment of the previous winter. She was 
so happy to be there, and, like a little bird, hopped cheerily 
about the room, revelling in her reunion with old friends ; 
but I heard privately that even in Switzerland, where food 
abounded, she was not getting enough to eat. The ex- 
change told so heavily against her that practically all 
her money went to pay for her room and the morning coffee, 
and she was sitting all day without food. I engaged the 
interest of some of the more prosperous women, and believe 
that they were able by the exercise of tact to improve 
the circumstances of this brave little woman. 

Isabella came to me the second morning with her eyes 
full of tears. " Dear Isabella, what is the matter ? " 
I inquired. She showed me a telegram just received by 
her German neighbour announcing the death of her only 
daughter. " She is heart-broken," said my friend. 
" She was an only child. And it was through hunger that 
the decline set in. She cannot speak to us this morning. 
And I do not wonder." 

82 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

Two ladies from Munich were the most vigorous 
speakers on the German side, and were immensely 
popular. One was Dr. Anita Augspurg, the other 
Fraulein L. G. Hyman. They live together in Munich, 
and were as inseparable at the Conference as the Siamese 
twins. Dr. Augspurg suggests a Franciscan monk in 
appearance. She wears her grey hair short. Her strong 
pleasant face has the expression of the religious fanatic 
whose conviction is founded upon reason, a rare pheno- 
menon in any country, but a type frequently met in the 
Russian Socialist Movement. In addition, to help the 
illusion, she wears a severe and loose style of dress sug- 
gestive of the robe of a priest. She is kind austerity 
embodied, simple and dignified. Her intimate friend is 
more emotional, full of quick passion and, I should 
imagine, quicker prejudices. Like Dr. Augspurg she is 
a pacifist and an excellent advocate. Her voice is of 
masculine timbre, and she has a vigorous and compelling 
gesture. Both these ladies are extravagant anti- 
Prussians eager to secure for Bavaria its independence 
of Berlin. Their account of the revolution in Bavaria 
was intensely interesting and amusing, and perhaps a 
few words may be told here quite appropriately. 



I have already mentioned Kurt Eisner, the long- 
haired delegate who met us at Berne railway station on 
our way to the International. Kurt Eisner was the 
leader of the Bavarian Revolution, and until his assassin- 
ation was President-Prime Minister of the Bavarian 
Republic. For many years this very able Prussian Jew 
had been the dramatic critic of the German Socialist 
newspaper Vorwdrts. He was a witty and brilliant 
writer, and was considered by aesthetic Berlin one of her 
greatest living authorities. Up to the time of the out- 
break of war he had barely touched practical politics. 
His Socialism was the idealistic theorizing of the cafe 
habitue, or at best the philosophic conclusion of the 

83 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

amiable and able dreamer of dreams which ought to 
come true, but do not in a lifetime. When the war broke 
out he violently opposed the war policy of the German 
Government. His articles were censored ; he was 
thrown into prison. He was living in Munich at this 
time. The downfall of the military power in Germany 
set him free. Having suffered for his faith, he was 
acclaimed by the leaderless Socialist Movement of 
Munich one of the martyrs of militarism and the pre- 
destined chief of the pacifist Socialist Movement of 
Bavaria. 

The young intellectuals of Munich were yelling all 
the time " Down with militarism," but nobody quite 
knew how it was to be " downed." The idea occurred 
to Eisner to march to the palace with a dozen men and 
demand the abdication of the king. They carried with 
them a strongly worded manifesto expressing in beautiful 
language their fine ideals, and marched up to the door of 
the palace in truculent mood prepared for the worst, 
hoping for the best. The best was realized. The royal 
forces offered no resistance. All they asked was that 
the king might retire unmolested. This was granted. 
Eisner was set up in the king's place, head of the new 
Republic. In a quarter of an hour, without the firing of 
a shot, the dynasty which had ruled for centuries was 
suspended, and a member of the despised race, a Jew, 
and a hated Prussian, was elevated in its stead. 

It was a revolution made inevitable by the defeat of 
the militarists of Germany ; but it might have been 
lasting if the militarists of the Allies had gone the same 
way. As it is, the peace has made that impossible. 
The present reaction in Bavaria, the general restoration 
in Central Europe of a belief in the power of the sword, 
is due to the revelation of the fact contained in the various 
Peace Treaties that the power of the sword is the power 
in which the Allies also trust. It would have been better 
for the revolution in Bavaria if Kurt Eisner had declined 
to be the symbol of the new order, for a Prime Minister 

84 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

of the race of the Jews was intolerable to aristocrat 
and peasant alike. 

Kurt Eisner was not a politician, as I have already 
said. He was an artist in words. He was a Bohemian 
in habits. He loved to frequent the cafes. He could not 
in his new office drop at once the habits and interests of 
a lifetime. Infinitely illuminating of the man's tastes and 
political judgment is his first act after taking office. It 
was the reorganization of the theatre of Munich ! He 
was not able to keep separate the two sides of his life, the 
social and the political, as wiser men would have done. 
He mixed the beer and tobacco and gossip of the cafe 
with the work, organization and government of the council 
chamber. Many of his followers and helpers copied his 
ways. The young men who served him ought to have 
been allowed to continue playing billiards in the Cafe 
Stefanie. Most of them were unfit for the great responsi- 
bilities so suddenly thrust upon them. Similar to the 
experience of Lenin and of most of the other Socialist 
leaders who had power suddenly thrust upon them was 
that of Kurt Eisner, who became the prey of revolution- 
profiteers, place-hunters, adventurers, insincere men and 
women who professed the new political creed as eagerly 
as they held the old. " This sort of thing," said the 
great Lincoln solemnly, " will ultimately test the 
strength of our democratic institutions." It has tainted 
their reputation already. 

At the International Kurt Eisner was prime favourite 
with the French delegates because he was so bitter and 
unsparing in his attacks on Imperial Germany. He was 
not a great orator, but he impressed his audience with the 
passionate sincerity of every word he spoke. It was one 
of his speeches in Berne which was said to have deter- 
mined his murderer, the young Count Arco, to kill him. 
It concerned the German prisoners of war who were then, 
four months after the war, still held back in France. 
Eisner tried to explain the French point of view in the 
matter. He was represented in Germany as having 
g 85 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

approved of it. It was felt to be intolerable. He was 
shot dead. And the shot made a martyr of a man, 
amiable, kind, gifted, slovenly in dress and habit, who 
had already outlived his usefulness to the Revolution and 
was about to resign, and who might have retired to some 
cafe and talked and smoked his life away to its happy and 
unimportant end. For me he is an interesting memory ; 
but I have to confess to the faint lingering of a feeling 
of resentment, the feeling I have always been unable to 
conquer for that type of pacifist, to be found in every 
country, who tries to absorb for his own government the 
entire responsibility for the war. 



It is impossible to name all the brilliant and capable 
women who attended this Conference. Amongst them 
was Miss Crystal Macmillan, tall and " bonny " and 
Scottish, the lawyer of the Conference, born to confound 
the illogical male ; Mrs. Pethick Lawrence, vivacious, 
eloquent and warm ; Frau Herzka of the mischievous 
smile and the everlasting cigarette ; Mademoiselle 
Gobat, the gifted'daughter of the renowned Swiss pacifist ; 
Mademoiselle Melan from France, whose wonderful speech 
electrified the assembly and melted to tears the hardest 
pro- Ally and to softness the bitterest pro-German ; and 
a host of others from the four corners of the earth, women 
whose names are household words in their respective 
countries. It was a good Conference, and gave direction 
to the thoughts and impulses of many who would other- 
wise have struggled in vain against the national psy- 
chology, and beaten their idealism to death against the 
almost indestructible barbed wires of national hates 
and prejudices. 

During the sitting of the women's Conference the 
Treaty of Versailles was published. The outrage upon 
the conscience of mankind which it revealed, and the 
stain upon the reputation of the Allies which it was, 
pledged to build upon fourteen fundamentals, every one 

86 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

of which was violated or ignored, stunned and stung 
the Conference into misery first and indignant protest 
afterwards. On the morning after the publication of 
the Treaty a unanimous declaration was made, proposed 
by myself, against the Treaty of Versailles. Lest the 
cynic should smile at the speed with which the Conference 
arrived at its conclusion on a matter which had occupied 
the Conference in Paris for seven months, I should like 
to point out two things. First, we had a clear idea in our 
minds of the essentials which the peace should contain. 
President Wilson and the British Prime Minister had 
helped us there. As for the elaborate clauses and fine 
details of the Treaty : more than one of the delegates had 
spent the best part of a day and the whole of a summer 
night digesting these for the morrow's debate. As a 
matter of historic interest I insert the first public declara- 
tion against the Treaty by any body of people in the world. 

" This International Congress of Women expresses 
its deep regret that the terms of peace proposed at 
Versailles should so seriously violate the principles upon 
which alone a just and lasting peace can be secured and 
which the democracies of the world had come to accept. 

"By guaranteeing the fruits of the secret treaties to 
the conquerors, the terms of peace tacitly sanction secret 
diplomacy, deny the principle of self-determination, 
recognize the right of the victors to the spoils of war, 
and create all over Europe discords and animosities 
which can only lead to future wars. 

*' By the demand for the disarmament of one set of 
belligerents only the principle of justice is violated, and 
the rule of force is continued. By the financial and 
economic proposals a hundred million people of this 
generation in the heart of Europe are condemned to 
poverty, disease and despair which must result in the 
spread of hatred and anarchy within each nation. 

" With a deep sense of responsibility this Congress 
strongly urges the Allied and Associated Governments 
to accept such amendments of the terms as shall bring 

S 7 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the Peace into harmony with the principles first enu- 
merated by President Wilson, upon the faithful carrying 
out of which the honour of the Allied peoples depends." 



I left the Conference that day in the company of 
one of the most brilliant of living Germans. He had 
never been optimistic about the Peace. He was more 
than half in sympathy with the militarist point of view 
although a sincere internationalist. It was not any 
fighting proclivity which had shaped his opinion. He 
hated violence for the vulgar, futile thing it is. But an 
inherited capacity for facing realities, and a cultivated 
habit of looking squarely at facts, led him to severe 
criticism of those he contemptuously spoke of as idealists. 
He was an idealist himself after a fashion ; but his ideal 
was not of the complexion of that exemplified in the 
conference of women. He had no use for democracy. 
He spoke openly of the stupid, ignorant thing which, he 
alleged, most people really believe it to be if they were 
honest with themselves and the rest of the world. He 
differed from those who acknowledge frankly the weak- 
nesses of democracy, but who, recognizing its inevit- 
ability, hope that with education and organization it need 
not to all eternity be the victim of the cunning and the 
corrupt. He believed democracy to be the predestined 
victim of power till the end of time. His ideal was the 
domination of mankind by a few great empires, common- 
wealths, call them what you will, British, German, 
Russian and American. The small nationalities he re- 
garded as a nuisance. He was bitterly hostile to those 
British delegates who contemplated complacently the 
break-up of the British Empire. He would have applauded 
the dissertations of Dean Inge on " the squalid anarchy 
of democracy," laughed to scorn the idea of an entirely 
independent India, Egypt, Ireland, and through all his 
pain at the destruction of the German Empire, pleaded 
for the preservation of that of Great Britain. 

88 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

For the " strong men " of England he had the warmest 
admiration. To my astonishment, before I knew him 
properly, he expressed an equal regard for M. Clemenceau. 
" What ! " I exclaimed, " the man who is doing his best to 
ruin Germany ? Or, at least, to benefit France in such a 
way that only the ruin of Germany can result ? You 
astonish me ! " 

" But why not ? " he replied. " In Clemenceau there 
is a man who knows what he wants and means to get it ; 
who looks for the attainable and means to attain it. 
When did you read from Clemenceau a speech full of 
delightful and impossible pledges and promises ? Has 
Clemenceau disguised the real objects of this war under 
a cover of fine and deceptive phrases ? All he cares about 
is France. He would stop at nothing to advance the in- 
terests of France. One can understand a point of view 
like that. It is cruel. It hurts Germany. Very well. 
That is sad for Germany ; but, at least, with such a man 
we know where we are and what to expect. If that is 
nothing, it is better to expect nothing and get it than to 
expect much and be disappointed. Clemenceau knows 
that in strangling Germany he will satisfy the immediate 
demands of France. That is all he cares about. This 
is the present. The future is far away, indefinite. New 
events will shape and govern that. For the present it is 
France, only France, all the time France ; and for the 
rest ? N'importe ! It is an intelligible point of view." 

There was a long pause during which I marvelled for 
the hundredth time at the amazing facility for languages 
of the cultivated European. 

" It is not the Clemenceaus and the Ludendorffs of the 
world, but your Wilsons, your Lloyd Georges, your idiotic 
idealists who are bringing it to ruin." He glanced at me 
to see if I were offended. " Please go on," I murmured. 
" You interest me deeply." 

" Your idealists have promised the people impossible 
things, Wilson's Fourteen Points, for instance, Lloyd 
George's wonderful phrases, Asquith's war-time speeches, 

89 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the Russian manifestoes, numberless ministers of religion 
with no more knowledge of international politics than the 
Bibles they thump. They have told the stupid masses 
that this is a holy war ; that the peace will be based upon 
justice : that nothing but good is intended the German 
people, if they will only get rid of their blood-stained 
Kaiser. The same sort of amiable idiots in Germany 
believe this sort of thing. All Germans, with the excep- 
tion of a few so-called pan-Germans, are intoxicating 
themselves with the thought that liberty is born anew ; 
that militarism is dead for ever ; that with the new 
German democracy the Allied democracies will make a 
fair and democratic peace. Pathetically relying on the 
Fourteen Points, they are pre-figuring a glorious future 
for free Germany, its place in the sun assured according 
to plan, a member of the great Society of Nations which 
shall maintain the peace of the world. Poor deluded 
wretches ! What an awakening there will be ! " 

All this was in Berne during the International. 

We left the Zurich conference hall together and dis- 
covered a little cafe famous for its good tea and delicious 
pastries. Not a word did we speak for many minutes. 
I was rilled with awe at the spectacle of his misery. The 
ordinarily smiling brown eyes were black with pain, the 
pain of a suffering dumb animal. He lit a cigarette. 
The silence continued. I felt like an intruder gazing in 
at the windows of a man's stricken soul ; but to retire 
would have been unsympathetic. So I stayed and poured 
out the tea and waited in silence for the speech that I 
hoped might come. 

" How can you sit there looking so fresh and beau- 
tiful ? How can the sun go on shining and the birds con- 
tinue to sing when the world is really dark and black and 
sunk in rottenness ? " was the beginning. 

" You feel it more than you expected ? " I asked, 
reminding him of the Berne conversation. 

"It is so much worse than I expected. I did not 
expect much, God knows. But this thing — it means 

90 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

famine, anarchy, war in Europe for twenty, thirty, forty 
years ! " I waited patiently. 

" Germany is to pay the uttermost farthing for the 
damage she did to civilians, which is not unreasonable ; 
an enormous amount of the war damage, of which I do 
not complain ; but also incalculable sums for the mischief 
for which she is not responsible, or only in part, which is 
wrong. At the same time practically all the means by 
which she is to make the money are to be taken from her — 
ships, minerals, colonies. She is to be disarmed and her 
deadly enemy is to remain fully armed. Any fool can see 
where that will lead. And the worst is not told. The 
slow starvation of Germany, the lynch-pin of European 
civilization, will mean incredible moral decline and spiritual 
degradation. Millions of people will think food, talk 
food, dream food, steal food, He for food, bribe, corrupt 
and even murder for food. What man would see his wife 
and children die of hunger whilst food was to be had ? 
Masses of disbanded soldiers, for whom there will be no 
work, will enlist for adventures, will quarrel, fight and kill, 
either for subsistence or in the service of the enemies of 
their country, having no choice, if they are to live. The 
new states will be insolent, ambitious, tyrannical, unscru- 
pulous. Instead of one big war there will be twenty little 
ones — war never ceasing, war for crude material things. 
Art, music, literature, the drama — these will decay. 
First class artists will go to America where they can be 
paid. Grass will grow in decayed cities and ignorant 
peasants will instal themselves in the seats of power. 
We shall have restored the age of bigotry and supersti- 
tion. Central Europe will not merely be Balkanized ; it 
will be atomized. Our horizon will decline to the level 
of each man's immediate family, if he has a conscience. 
He will have no horizon but himself if he has none. 
And as for your ideals " — here he paused — " the failure 
of Wilson has made faith in them impossible to revive 
for decades, if ever again. Faith in the pledged word of 
public men, faith in idealism, faith in religion — this is 

91 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

dying or dead. And our idealists have killed it, not the 
men who never professed more than the crudest material 
objectives in this war. Wilson and Lloyd George be- 
tween them have damaged the world's moral currency 
infinitely more than the Treaty of Peace has damaged the 
financial currency of Germany ; and the world is poorer 
by the loss of the one than of the other, grave though 
that is." 

As the passionate words fell from his lips I felt 
humiliated to the very dust for the failure that I felt 
myself to embody. Weeping in a public place is not a 
habit of mine or I might have wept. But if my friend 
saw no tears, he must have felt the sympathy, for as we rose 
to go to the University he said : 

" But justice and sanity owe much to you. I am 
grateful for your speech of this morning. It will have no 
effect. It will accomplish nothing. But it is good to 
know there are some with the courage to speak what they 
believe even when it is on behalf of a beaten foe. And 
the German women will be grateful for your protest 
against the blockade." 



One of the most interesting of the public meetings 
in connexion with this Conference was held in an 
immense church , like a great cathedral for size and pro- 
portions. One of the speakers on this occasion was a 
mulatto woman who addressed the gathering in excellent 
German. Very suitably she pleaded the cause of her 
race and the importance of a world at peace for the de- 
velopment along right lines of the black man and woman. 

At the foot of the pulpit from which we spoke was 
an invalid chair in which was seated a pale, scholarly 
looking man with a refined and earnest face. He listened 
with the keenest attention to the speeches and obviously 
understood all the languages employed on this occasion. 
Nobody could fail to be arrested by the personality of 
this intense listener. The question as to who he was flew 

92 



The Conference of Women at Zurich 

from one to another. He was Prince Alexander Hohen- 
lohe, often spoken of as the " Red Prince " on account 
of his radical views on many subjects. The next day I 
received a complimentary letter from him and an invita- 
tion to tea, which I accepted. I found him seated under 
the trees in his chair in the garden of the Hotel Baur au 
Lac, and we had an interesting talk on the condition of 
European politics at the time. He spoke in the friendliest 
way of England. Amongst his dreams for the future is 
that of a real friendship between France and Germany. 
His father was for some years German Ambassador to 
France. His uncle was the German Chancellor. He 
himself lived in Paris for years. And this close acquaint- 
ance with the French people had evidently had a happy 
result. His invalidism restricts his physical activities ; 
but he is a prolific and able writer, whose writings 
invariably aim at the establishment of pacific relations 
amongst the nations of the world. 

A speaker who proved most acceptable at the public 
meetings was Mrs. Despard. Not only was her speaking 
liked, but she made an extraordinary impression upon 
the Swiss people by the immense dignity, I might almost 
say majesty, of her appearance. A walk with Mrs. 
Despard along the main street of Zurich stands out in 
my memory. She was entirely unaware of the sensation 
she made ; but it is a simple fact that this beautiful old 
lady with her aristocratic bearing and fine features, her 
snowy hair tucked under a black Spanish lace mantilla, 
her old-fashioned long dress and sandalled feet caused 
everybody who passed her to stop and stare and stop and 
stare again, wonder all over his face. There was respect 
in every look ; no vulgar curiosity. Some men, entirely 
unknown to either of us, raised their hats as they passed 
us, saluting her as if she were a queen. 

Mrs. Despard is more than seventy years of age, yet 
she shames us all by the strenuousness of her life. She is 
Irish, with an Irishwoman's quick imagination and warm 
heart. When visiting an English town to make a speech, 

93 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

she is usually advertised as the sister of Viscount (now 
Earl) French. Whether this is done to attract an audience 
by taking the edge off her Socialism through her con- 
nexion with titled folk, or whether it is thought that 
otherwise she would interest nobody because unknown to 
most, I cannot say ; but Mrs. Despard can stand entirely 
on her own feet for the richness of her personality and 
the quality and variety of her work, always on behalf of 
the poor and the oppressed. The only value to be attached 
to the advertised connexion with Lord French lies in its 
demonstration of the possibility of there being varied 
opinions without alienated affections in one family. Lord 
French and his sister differ as far as the poles in political 
opinions. She is a democrat, a Socialist, a pacifist. 
Nobody knows his politics. She is in favour of self- 
determination for Ireland. He has been Ireland's 
Governor-General under the Terror. Yet I understand 
there exists a very tender affection the one for the other ; 
and nothing could shake Mrs. Despard's belief that, in 
all his actions, whether as a soldier or a statesman, her 
beloved brother has been actuated by the finest motives 
that can govern any man in a position of grave responsi- 
bility for the lives and welfare of the people in his charge. 
In England we have christened her the " grandmother of 
the revolution," because when many of us were babes in 
arms, Mrs. Despard was carrying the flag of freedom in the 
cause which we hope will ultimately secure the material 
happiness of mankind. But in spirit she is the youngest 
of us all. 



94 



CHAPTER VI 

THE INTERNATIONAL AT LUCERNE (JULY, I919) 

It was not the full International, but the special Council 
appointed by it which met at Lucerne in July of 1919. 
This time my position was that of a representative 
of the Press, and not a delegate. I had an honorary 
commission from a London daily newspaper to report 
the proceedings of the Conference. I am afraid my 
report was not too sympathetic. Everybody felt the 
same thing in some degree. Far too much time was 
wasted on petty national squabbles. The old fight on 
responsibility for the war was taken up with renewed 
lustiness. French and Germans yelled at one another, 
like children in a street squabble, with the old vituper- 
ativeness. Meantime the crime of Paris had been com- 
mitted, and the world was shrieking from its gaping 
and undoctored wounds. A problem presented itself 
to me : How to make a genuine International out of 
men so filled with national hates and envies that they 
were at one another's throats for the slightest word ! 
Of course, I am sure they said a great deal more than 
they meant. They always do at Socialist conferences. 
Nobody could stay for five minutes in any Socialist 
Party I know, if he believed that all the abuse and vio- 
lence of language used by members against one another 
were intended to be taken at their face value. But it 
seemed pitiful that the old vice of talking and saying 
nothing should have possessed the International at such 
a tragic time in the world's history. Apart from the 
awfulness of the Peace, the persecution of the Jews 
and the Hungarian counter - revolution should have 

95 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

absorbed the attention of any body of enlightened 
Socialists sitting in conference. 

Lucerne is not a good place for a congress. It is too 
beautiful. The delegates wanted to be out amongst the 
mountains or to be dipping their hands into the lake as 
they rowed lazily on its still surface. The most inveterate 
lover of eloquence could not get up any enthusiasm for 
such indoor sport when he saw the bright sun on the 
dancing waves and mopped his moist brow on his cool 
handkerchief. 

I arrived at the Conference late on account of special 
difficulties about my passport. On the way I had a 
curious experience. It happened at Berne. I had 
broken my journey there and taken the evening train. 
Into the carriage stepped a dark-haired girl who evidently 
knew me, as she called me by my name, and asked 
if I would mind her smoking " one little cigarette," 
a very mild one. When she had lit it she settled herself 
in a corner ; and then began a conversation which I 
speedily discovered was designed to elicit information. 
She appeared particularly interested in Mr. J. R. Mac- 
donald. I evaded all her questions about Mr. Macdonald, 
but to silence her on the subject said she should have 
an introduction to Mr. Macdonald the next day at the 
Conference. Her story of herself was interesting. She 
had married an Englishman and divorced him. She 
had one delicate little son. She had married again, a 
Hungarian, a Socialist who had accepted a position in 
the Hungarian Social-Democratic Government. She was 
going to join him soon. She had been in England, 
the guest of Miss Hobhouse. She was extradited from 
England as a pacifist. I recalled some story about 
Miss Hobhouse having entertained unawares a foreign 
Government agent. Was this the woman ? I intro- 
duced her next day to Mr. Macdonald, having previously 
cautioned him. He was quite convinced she was pur- 
suing her avocation. But what was that ? Was she 
a spy? 

96 



The International at Lucerne 

Some of our delegates were rather apt to imagine 
everybody was a spy. One of them was taken to see 
a certain Austrian diplomat, and all the time the taxi 
was rattling there he was looking out of the little window 
at the back, quite, quite certain that the cab was being 
followed by he didn't know whom — but somebody ! 

The personnel of the International gathering in 
Lucerne was very largely the same as at Berne. Bern- 
stein was there looking very much better in health 
than in Berne. He is generally regarded as the patriarch 
of German Socialism. He was one of the victims of 
Bismarck's anti-Socialist legislation, and lived in exile 
in Switzerland and England for some years. He is 
known for his personal kindness and toleration. His 
revisionist proclivities would place him beyond the 
pale with Lenin and Trotsky. Although a man of 
immovable faith he was not fond of blinding himself 
with illusions. He expected less of mankind then Eisner 
or Keir Hardie. His adversaries described him variously, 
some as- an Anglomaniac, others a Frankophile, the 
pan-Germans as a " damned Jew." His friends knew 
him to be a true Internationalist, a good European. 
He published a book of reminiscences in 1917, in which 
he expressed all his really tender love for England. 
This contains fascinating . pictures of famous English 
men and women he had known. The years in England 
were the happiest years of his life. This book, published 
in Germany in 1917, had a considerable success there. 
(Remember, the war was still raging.) An English 
edition of it has only just (1921) been produced ! 

After Versailles, many of his friends thought that he, 
and only he, would be the right person to represent the new 
Germany at the Court of St. James. How little they 
knew the mentality of Downing Street ! The reactionary 
Foreign Office officials of Berlin knew a great deal better 
than that. They sent a patrician from the Hansa. 
German Socialists were good enough to help break 
Imperial Germany, but British junkerdom would scarcely 

9f 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

find them tolerable as ambassadors. Even a Socialist 
Government would be well advised to send a reactionary 
to London. The wheels would go round more smoothly. 
When, a few months later, Edouard Bernstein wanted 
to come to London to attend a conference, in spite of 
his pro-English record he was refused a visum. Public 
opinion abroad is steadfastly of the opinion that England 
does not know her enemies. It is manifest she does 
not know her friends. I have watched carefully and 
have come to the conclusion that those aliens who never 
failed in their friendship for England during the war 
are having a worse fate at the hands of our Foreign 
Office than those who hate her most. I know of at least 
three cases of almost outrageous German pro-Britons 
who have received treatment from the British Govern- 
ment which ought to make them contemptuous of this 
country till the end of their days. But it will not. 
I know them too well to believe that it will make the 
slightest difference. 

I was interested to see Dr. Smeral and Dr. Nemec 
at Lucerne. They had impressed me at Berne. They 
were the two Czecho-Slovak delegates. They used to 
be called " the Inseparables." Now they are the bitterest 
enemies. Smeral is the leader of the Czech Communists ; 
Nemec the leader of the Majority Socialists. Smeral is 
an enormously fat man with clear eyes, and is usually 
as silent as a statue of Buddha. He did not speak at 
either of the conferences. Nemec on the other hand 
startled the Conference at Berne with a fighting speech 
of the first order, though nobody knew what it was all 
about ! Czecho-Slovakia was one of the very few 
winners in the war, and yet he spoke full of hatred, 
passion, aggressiveness. He is a sprightly little man, 
with a red nose and a perpetual twinkle in his eye. 
Part of the Conference laughed good-humouredly at 
the tirade ; others, not understanding, were bored to 
tears. Finally Dr. Nemec was stopped by the chair- 
man, and he receded from the platform firing shots as 

98 



The International at Lucerne 

he went, at the chairman, at the Conference, at the 
Allies, protesting, protesting, protesting ! 

It was explained afterwards that the whole per- 
formance was due to mere force of habit. Having been 
for ten or twenty years one of the most virulent leaders 
of the Czech Opposition in the Austrian Parliament, 
Dr. Nemec mistook the Berne Conference for the Vienna 
Parliament ! 

Dr. Smeral is supposed to be one of the strongest 
and clearest intellects in continental Socialism. Without 
being reticent he is not exactly talkative. He was in 
Moscow shortly before I went there, and came back 
with the exactly opposite opinion. I do not know what 
he saw there, what he was told, or what was the point of 
view from which he examined things. I am sure his 
opinion was honestly formed. I hope he believes that 
mine was the same. Lenin has thought fit to change ! 
Smeral may do so also. 

After his return to Prague the split in the Socialist 
Movement, which has happened in almost every country, 
took place. Smeral's followers took violent possession 
of the Socialist headquarters, printing-press, etc., and 
ejected Nemec and his group. For weeks no attempt 
was made by the Czech Government to restore law and 
order. Finally the Communist minority had to give 
way. Smeral's part in all these petty adventures is 
not clear ; but he is certainly the silent and menacing 
figure on the horizon of Czecho-Slovakia's political future. 
His demonstration of how it was possible to grow 
rich by spending money amused me. He came to Swit- 
zerland from Prague, stayed several weeks in a good 
hotel, returned to Prague, and had more crowns in his 
pocket on his return than when he left ! What is the 
answer to the riddle ? A fallen exchange. 



I was having tea in the hotel one day when an extra- 
ordinary figure of a man appeared at the door. He had 

99 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

a curly black beard and long wavy hair ! He wore a 
big red tie and a dirty flannel shirt. In his hand was a 
black slouch hat, and on his feet a pair of sandals. He 
was carrying a packet of pamphlets written by himself 
and asked me to accept one. He also invited me to 
come to a meeting at the Volkshaus to be held that 
evening. I promised I would do my best, and he appeared 
satisfied and shambled out of the room a little abashed 
by something. Nobody knew who he was, but later in 
the evening the rumour was afloat that an eccentric 
American millionaire Socialist was trying to get up a 
Bolshevik agitation, and was canvassing the delegates 
for support. I heard afterwards that his meeting was 
a failure. 



A character I met of a different sort, and anything 
but a Socialist, was a Russian diplomat of the ancien 
regime. He was at one time Russia's Charge d'Arfaires 
at Berne. The sight of him swinging his cane along 
the Lucerne boulevard reminded me of his interesting 
career. He had the reputation of being the most in- 
telligent diplomat in Switzerland ; of his private character 
the most merciless stories were openly told. It was 
taken for granted that even before the Revolution he 
had been in the pay of the Austrians, but as an excellent 
Russian patriot he took the Austrian money and gave 
them Tartar news ! He was elegant, amiable, and amaz- 
ingly frank. Contrary to many of his colleagues, he did 
not pretend in the least to have any liking for democracy. 
He was a thorough reactionary, not only in feeling but 
in ideas. He did not merely abuse the Bolsheviks. 
He studied and analysed them. He was extremely 
cynical but clear thinking. He had marvellous powers 
of conversation, and could describe things with a fullness 
of language that made them stand out in the imagination 
of the listener. Under the spell of his voice the old 
Russia stood clear as the new. 

ioo 



The International at Lucerne 

During the Peace Conference he pretended to be 
Clemenceau's chosen instrument against Bolshevism. 
Many people in Berne who were waiting to be admitted 
to the holy precincts of the city of Peace paid him 
large sums of money to procure them a French visum. 
Some of them are said to have succeeded in getting one. 
Others gave up their money, their hopes and their Peace 
Conference ! 

In those days his funds ran low. With the assistance 
of his beautiful wife he established a gambling salon at 
his flat, where a number of young diplomats, and 
very many of the aristocratic refugees from the 
Central Empires, were thoroughly plucked. Berne 
being rather a dull place, and the waiting for visa 
rather tedious, this establishment became an invaluable 
social convenience. 

Continuing to live at the very height of extravagant 
luxury he could not avoid his financial collapse. His 
costly furniture was sold, and one day his orders — Russian, 
Austrian, Italian, German, English — some of which were 
of solid gold, were passed on a beautiful plate round the 
cafes of Berne for sale. 

Whatever the truth about his character, it was a fact 
that most of the diplomats of Berne on both sides would 
have nothing to do with him. During his last few months 
in Switzerland he divorced his wife, on which occasion 
it was revealed that his wedding a dozen years before 
was attended by the cream of the Russian aristocracy 
and that he owned vast estates in Russia. He is rumoured 
to have left Berne for South America in the company 
of the beautiful blonde manicurist of the Belle Vue 
Hotel ! Sic transit gloria mundi. 



Miss Catherine Marshall appeared at the Lucerne Con- 
ference. She is one of the ablest of the feminists of 
Great Britain. For some years she had been very ill, 
the victim of overwork ;^and overstrain. It was feared 

H IOI 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

she might not return to public life. Her appearance 
in Lucerne gave everybody pleasure. She was lately 
returned from Germany, whither she had gone in defiance 
of prohibitions, and had a strange, sad story to tell. 
Reckless of her own delicate health she had lived as the 
people live, and showed marks in herself of the poverty 
of that living. The restlessness of her mind and body 
were evidence of continued ill-health, and I strongly 
pressed her to go home and take a quiet time in the 
country somewhere. The most pitiful thing in creation 
is the nervous woman unable to rest. The deliberate 
waste of great powers by their ill-regulated use robs 
the gift of them of half its worth. Together we walked 
in the woods and on the hill slopes of Lucerne, and I 
talked to her, with the cruel candour of a friend, of the 
need for " going slow " if she wished to do more good 
work for the cause of women. 

At the end of four days I returned to Berne to pre- 
pare for a longer journey than I had hitherto taken. 
I would make an effort to go to Vienna. 



102 



CHAPTER VII 

DYING AUSTRIA (AUGUST-SEPTEMBER, I919) 

After spending two weeks at the mountain hotel in 
Berne I succeeded in getting a passport for Vienna 
in August, 1919 ; but it was an Austrian passport A 
certain relaxation of the rules of the British Foreign 
Office in favour of the representatives of the Press wishing 
to travel in Austria was made in July of that year. 
For the future such people were not required to 
have a British visum for a journey to Vienna. So I 
was informed by several returned newspaper men who 
had taken no trouble of this sort. Twice previously my 
earnest plea for the necessary visum had been rejected, 
though Mr. Savery of the British Legation had met 
me with the greatest civility and had made, I am sure, 
sincere efforts on my behalf. I heartily rejoiced in the 
withdrawal of the regulation and made my plans. I 
had a commission from a London newspaper to report 
the Lucerne International, and secured a letter from the 
editor authorizing me to proceed to Vienna on his behalf. 
Armed with this I proceeded to the Austrian Legation 
to see what could be done. 

Baron Haupt, the Austrian Minister, was exceedingly 
helpful. The passport was at once prepared by his 
secretary. A permit from the Swiss police to leave the 
country by a different frontier from the one by which 
I entered was all I needed in addition, and this was 
granted with the cordiality which the Swiss have in- 
variably shown me whenever I have made a request 
I was very happy to be equipped at last for the journey 
I had tried so often to |take. I wanted intensely to 

103 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

discover for myself if the painful stories of Vienna's 
misery were really true. I hoped I might find them 
grossly exaggerated. 

It became rumoured in Berne that I was going to 
Vienna. Within half an hour half a dozen people un- 
known to me came and begged me to take parcels of food 
to their starving relations. The Swiss allowed a maximum 
of only 8 kilos (about 20 lb.) of food to be taken out of 
Switzerland by each traveller. It was necessary to 
protect their own people from the famine which would 
have ensued if unlimited quantities of food could have 
been carried away in this fashion. It was manifestly 
impossible to oblige all those poor people. I took 
8 kilos of food for one family of whom I had heard and 
whose necessity was great. Several times en route 
attempts were made to relieve me of that box of food, 
but I would allow nobody to touch it. I almost literally 
sat on it by day and slept on it by night, and so con- 
trived to bring it safely to its destination. I picture 
now the grateful look of the man who took the box 
from me with the air of receiving its weight in pure gold. 
It was my first glimpse at the reality of life in Vienna. 

But there were troubles in Berne before I got away. 
I wanted to travel by the Entente express which touched 
at Basle on a particular date. To my astonishment I 
learnt that it was necessary to get permission from the 
French to board that train. Baron Haupt had received 
from Dr. Renner in Paris a telegram to say that the 
Foreign Minister was touching Basle on his way to Vienna 
with the Treaty of St. Germains in his pocket on a par- 
ticular date, and that there would be five empty available 
places in his coach. The Austrian Minister offered me 
one of these places. But I must first ask leave of the 
French ! It seemed utterly preposterous. The Aus- 
trians paid for the carriage. I was prepared to pay for 
my ticket. The seats were unoccupied. What had 
the French to do with it, if the Austrian Foreign Minister 
did not object to me as a fellow-traveller ? 

104 



Dying Austria 

However, this was the rule, and must be obeyed. 
I hied me to the French Embassy feeling anything but 
pleased. I asked to see the First Secretary. I saw 
three men in succession, not one of whom knew a word 
of English, and told my story separately to each. I 
wanted to go to Vienna to investigate the condition of 
the people, and in particular the needs of the children, 
with a view to organizing relief. Where was the harm 
in that ? 

Three grave men solemnly debated the matter with 
shrugs of the shoulder and nods of the head, and finally 
decided to refuse permission. They excused the dis- 
courtesy by saying that only soldiers and diplomats 
travelled by that train, a statement which I knew to 
be untrue. Incredible numbers of French traders seek- 
ing to sell soaps and scents to the starving Viennese 
travelled regularly by the Entente trains. The stories 
I heard in Vienna of the abuse of this quick service 
would fill a book with scandalous tales. The result of 
this refusal was unpleasant for me. I was obliged to 
take the slow train. Instead of the twenty hours which 
the journey with the fast train would have occupied, 
I was four days and three nights travelling from Berne 
to Vienna. The horror of that journey is a recurring 
nightmare to this day ! 

It was not so much the physical discomfort I minded. 
I was prepared for that in a measure. I had brought 
with me cheese and chocolate for the journey. I dressed 
with the idea of having to curl up uncomfortably for 
two nights in the train. I plaited my hair in two severe 
bands, which I pinned tightly across my head, to present 
as neat an appearance as might be in the complete 
absence of toilet facilities. I took with me only a light 
suit-case, which I could carry with one hand, and the 
box of food with the other. The masses of flowers 
which were the farewell gift of the Hungarians had wilted 
in the heat before I reached Buchs. I left them in the 
train. I anticipated, as I thought, every trouble. But 

105 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

it was worse, far worse than my imagination had 
conceived. 

The beginning was not so bad, although the inn at 
Buchs was far below the standard of Swiss inns. My 
room was small and dirty, and at the top of the building. 
The food was poor and badly served. Not till noon 
of the day following did the laggard train move out 
of Buchs for Feldkirch, the Austrian frontier town. 
There began the screaming and quarrelling and pushing 
and swearing I was familiar with on other frontiers, 
the stupid passport and Customs business which had 
delayed us at Buchs. 1 

There were about three hundred passengers for 
the journey. I observed two women at the passport 
office, but I saw only one of them again. She was a 
beautiful Viennese prostitute. She succeeded in getting 
herself attached to a Spaniard who was travelling, a 
handsome, boisterous boy, with a very fine tenor voice. 
The other was an elderly Englishwoman married to an 
Austrian. 

" Pardon me, madam," I heard a thin voice say, 
as we struggled to get into the passport office. " I see 
you have an English passport, and I heard you say your 
name was Snowden. Do you by any chance know a 
Mr. Philip Snowden, who lives in England ? " 

" I know him very well," I said, smiling at her eager 
old face. " He is my husband." 

Then followed warm handshaking and praiseful 
words about Mr. Philip Snowden from this lonely old 
lady, whom the prick of poisoned war pens had caused 
deeply to suffer. She loved her good Austrian husband ; 
had been very happy in Vienna ; liked the merry, kind- 
hearted people, and was very indignant over the ex- 
travagant falsehoods of the sensational Press. She 
left as soon as she recovered her passport, and I never 
saw her again. My name had not yet been called. A 
shrill scream from a railway engine, a clatter of moving 
wheels, and the last half-dozen of us saw the train 

106 



Dying Austria 

move out without us, patiently waiting, still empty 
handed. 

I was the very last to be served, and, as a matter 
of faci, was never called. Was there some mistake, 
I wondered ? I grew cold as I thought of the possible 
loss of my English passport. Only later did I realize 
that jnly the Austrian one need have been handed in. 
I pushed past the young Austrian soldier resting upon 
his rifle, and walked through the Customs House into 
a tiny office. Nobody was there, but my open passport 
lay upon the table. I folded it and walked out with it. 
Ncbody hindered me. I inquired for the next train. 
Ttere was nothing till 8 o'clock. It was then 3 in the 
afternoon — five hours to wait ! I made my way to the 
hDtel garden and took a late lunch under the trees, sharing 
my Swiss cheese with a Polish musician, who divided 
lis tinned chicken with me. We discussed the various 
operas in a droll mixture of French and English. H4 
lad played often in Paris, and conducted at Covent 
harden, and was even then planning a return to London 
in the following spring. He wished greatly to improve 
his English, which was really very bad. " Your Engleesh 
it is tres difficile. It have many meanings, one word. 
I speek never " ; and he flung out both arms with a despair- 
ing gesture which nearly upset the slender garden chair 
on which he was sitting. He was intensely poetical, 
emotional, sentimental. " Ah, madame," he exclaimed 
effusively, " a scene like this, the blue skies of Italy, 
soft music, and you — Mignon — pairfect ! " And he 
hummed a strain from the old opera of Thomas, alter- 
nately singing and sighing until the going down of the 
sun, and the slow incoming of our shabby little train. 

Picture a long length of incredibly dingy railway 
carriages with most of the windows broken, the leather 
straps cut away, the stuffing protruding from the torn 
cushions, the plumbing out of order, no lighting and 
no heating. Contemplate massed numbers of people 
of all nationalities, dirty, tired, quarrelsome, packing 

107 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the carriages and crowding the corridors, filling the air 
with oaths and odours of unimaginable filthiness. 
Think of our being turned out of these carriages twice 
in one night, and groping our way along the railway 
lines in the pitch black darkness to find other carriages 
equally repulsive in other trains equally disreputable ; 
a screaming babel of tongues with not a word of English 
deafening the ears ; dragging heavy suit-cases and thrust- 
ing and elbowing with the rest of the unruly throng in 
the mad rush for a seat ! 

Eight of us found our way into one first-class 
carriage. It was dark, and we could not discover cur 
companions. One man produced a piece of cancle 
which he stuck on the table with a little melted wax. 
This supplied us with a dim light for several hours. 
After that we sat in the dark, the men roaring out comic 
songs to help keep up their spirits and while away the 
long tedious hours. The company this time included 
the Spaniard and his newly attached lady, two Poles, 
one Czech, one Hungarian, and a Frenchman, besides 
myself. French was the language used by all. 

During two full days and nights we suffered every 
conceivable torture from dirt and discomfort. Offensive 
small creatures bit our arms and legs. We could not 
wash except by running out of the train when it stopped 
and dipping our hands in the water from the station 
fountain. Three hundred persons moved with the same 
desire would have reduced almost to zero the chances 
of any one. We were afraid to miss the train or lose 
our places, and stayed where we were. In addition to 
all this, the women found it wiser to stay awake during 
the night to save themselves from the unwelcome atten- 
tions of amorous men, unable to conceive that any business 
other than one could take a woman alone to Vienna 
in such circumstances and at such a time. This par- 
ticularly disagreeable experience I do not forget I owe 
to the wanton discourtesy of French officials. 

* * * * # 

ioS 



Dying Austria 

A curious incident took place when we were within 
a few miles of Vienna. The train stopped and a number 
of soldiers fully armed entered the train and insisted 
on examining the baggage of all those passengers who 
had not come from beyond the frontier. I observed 
a similar opening of bags whenever afterwards I was 
in the Vienna railway station. These were the soldiers 
of the Volkswehr attempting in this extra-constitutional 
way to stop profiteering in food. Thousands of people, 
unable to live on the ration when they could get it and 
generally unable to get it, were obliged to go into the 
country in search of food. To pay the reluctant peasants 
who produced it they took their jewels, their clothes, 
their household furnishings. The more they had the 
more food they could buy in this way. The supply 
was thereby reduced for the ordinary market. The poor 
suffered frightfully. The peasants preferred to sell in 
this fashion because the Government's fixed price for 
food was very considerably below the world market- 
price for their products. Some of these purchasers 
of their stocks were gamblers in food who sold to the 
big hotels for fabulous prices. The people's army 
determined to stop this. I learnt their method. It 
was certainly irregular. Was it effective ? There were 
various opinions. It was frequently told me that the 
corruption had simply been transferred from one set 
of people to another, and that the wives and families 
of the soldiers of the people's army profited at the ex- 
pense of the poor of every other class. Upon one thing 
those in authority were agreed, that to prohibit the Volks- 
wehr from acting in this way would mean rioting and 
civil war, and possibly a Bolshevik revolution ! 

Crime, corruption, and dishonesty are the awful 
first-fruits of famine in all the countries of Central 
Europe. It is the calamity that the best people every- 
where most lament. German students must fasten 
their caps and coats to their pegs with chains. Boots 
and shoes must not be left outside hotel doors in Poland. 

109 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Sheets and blankets have been stolen off the hotel 
beds in Vienna. Railway trucks disappear regularly in 
Rumania and Russia. Bribery is the order of the day. 
Railway officials, hotel porters, policemen, soldiers, 
school teachers, University professors, legislators, generals, 
cabinet ministers, ambassadors — there is nobody in 
that part of the world who cannot be tempted, and very 
few, I am told, who do not fall. Complacent English 
readers need not sniff superiorly. What would they do, if 
they saw their wives and children starving, and the wages 
for a month's hard work not enough to buy them shoes ? 

An Austrian friend of mine told me of his brother's 
experience on the frontiers of two Balkan states. This 
brother sent sixty truck-loads of goods from one country 
to the other. When he arrived in a passenger train at 
the frontier station he saw his sixty trucks, some of them 
broken open, standing in a siding. There were many 
trucks besides his own. As far as the eye could reach 
there was nothing but railway trucks, a wilderness of 
trucks, thousands upon thousands, halted for no reason 
that was apparent. 

He made his way to the station official, and anxiously 
inquired about it. " When will my trucks be sent on ? " 
he asked, with much concern. "It is most important 
that they should go without delay." The stationmaster 
grinned unsympathetically, and pointed to the forest 
of railway wagons stretching before them. " You 
want your trucks sent at once ! Look you there. All 
those trucks came before yours. They must go before 
yours." And he prepared to walk away. " But I 
cannot stay here for months," replied the man in dismay. 
" I have very important work waiting for me. And the 
people in my city are badly in need of those things. 
If they stay here the peasants will steal everything. 
I beg you to send them out at once." But he argued 
in vain. The official was obdurate. Seeing that what 
he suspected was inevitable, the baffled trader drew out 
his pocket-book and asked the official to name his price. 

no 



Dying Austria 

And he actually handed over to this corrupt servant 
of the public a sum which in the money of the country 
at pre-war values would work out at the rate of £100 
for each of his sixty trucks ! For this payment the 
goods were dispatched within a week. 

Here is one little picture of Central and Eastern 
Europe which tells its story plainly. These bribes are 
not really paid by the trader. They are added to the 
price of the goods. The wretched consumers pay. 
The workless proletarian and poor peasant are the 
exploited ; but the breaking point always comes. It 
will come in all the countries if international action to 
restore life to its normal basis be not taken in time. 
And that way revolution and Bolshevism lie. 



At 6 o'clock on the fourth morning after leaving 
Berne I came to Vienna. The cabman who drove me 
to the Hotel Bristol, a mile away, charged ioo crowns. 
In pre-war values that would have been about £4. 
In present day values it is about is. 3d. ! My room at 
the best hotel in Vienna cost 28 crowns a day. Before 
the war that was a guinea. To-day it is about 2d. ! 
The meals at the Bristol were very ordinary, but the 
minimum decent meal cost about 150 crowns. Once 
that sum counted as £6. Now it is less than 2s. ! The 
value of Austrian money has declined almost to vanish- 
ing point through the war and the peace. 

I arrived at the Hotel Bristol before anybody except 
the night-porter was astir. He sleepily informed me 
that he could not give me a room until the secretary 
arrived. I had wired a week before and engaged the 
influence of President Seitz in addition ; but the porter 
knew nothing about this. I sat in the hotel vestibule 
more than half asleep and feeling as though driven 
from home, when the secretary arrived, and from that 
moment all was well. The President had made secure 
for me a room in that crowded and popular guest-house, 

in 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

once the rendezvous of princes, now the abode of Entente 
Commissioners and the profiteers of all nations. 

The traveller in the broken countries of Europe, 
enemy or allied, will see little of the real life and con- 
dition of the people if he live at the big hotels. This 
is true at any time, but more unfortunately true now ; 
for the lazy and the prejudiced come home from their 
trips to write letters to the newspapers which give 
totally wrong impressions, and are meant to discourage 
every proposal to alleviate suffering. The same is true 
of every country in Europe which has been engaged 
in the war, the allied only less than the others. Perhaps 
Austria has suffered most ; unless it be Russia. The 
country round is scoured to buy food for the big hotels. 
Even so the evidences of real poverty in the hotels 
were abundant in the patched and darned bed linen, 
the scanty blankets, the paper table-covers, and the 
entire absence of hot water, which was a luxury undreamt 
of at the time of my visit. Then, a cake of soap was a 
present of most conspicuous value to a friend in Vienna ! 

Fat cunning rogues ate (and still eat) plentifully of 
the food which in their real money they could buy more 
cheaply in Vienna than at home. No thought of the 
starving poor whose supplies they were lessening afflicted 
these gorging and guzzling adventurers, as busy with 
the pickings of profit as unclean birds tearing the last 
shreds of flesh off the bones of a corpse. Allied Com- 
missioners by the hundred if not the thousand, with 
little or nothing to do, paid for by this starving little 
nation, were eating their heads off when I was in Vienna, 
whilst half-famished leaders of the proletariat struggled 
to keep down the spectre of revolution which the sight 
of so much abundance in the midst of starvation con- 
tinuously tempted and provoked. I soon found it 
impossible to eat in the comparative luxury of the 
Bristol Hotel, and discovered a cheap quiet restaurant 
where well-conducted Austrians passed away the hours 
of their enforced idleness. Even there it was painful 

112 



Dying Austria 

to eat. To be watched by dozens of pairs of envious 
eyes with every mouthful of the simple food one ate 
filled one with cold horror at the thought of what 
it implied, a slowly dying city of 2.\ millions of 
people. For the rest of my time in Vienna I con- 
trived to share my meals with strangers whenever it 
was possible to do so without hurting their pride. And 
I found that pride is a plant which rarely survives where 
hunger and cold have starved the soil for several years. 
What sad sights were there for the observant in the 
streets and caf£s of the once gay city of Vienna ! The 
postman who delivered the letters at the hotel was 
dressed in rags. The porters at the railway stations 
were in worn cotton uniforms, and were glad of tips 
in the form of hard-boiled eggs and cigarettes. Uni- 
formed officers sold roses in the cafes. Delicate women 
in faded finery begged with their children at street 
corners. Grass was growing in the principal streets. 
The shops were empty of customers. There was no 
roar and rush of traffic. The one-time beautiful horses 
of the Ringstrasse looked thin and limp. Frequently 
they dropped dead in the streets, of hunger. 

I climbed a hill outside the city, and from the many 
hundreds of chimneys of mill and factory no smoke 
was rising. At the Labour Exchanges many thousands 
of men and women stood in long lines to receive their 
out-of-work pay. I moved amongst them, speaking 
English, and heard no bitter word, saw no hard look 
from these gentle people who have been so grievously 
wronged by their own and other exploiters. In every 
one of the hundred one-roomed dwellings I visited were 
pitiful babes, small, misshapen or idiotic through the 
lack of proper food. Consumptive mothers dragged 
themselves about the rooms tearful about the lack of 
milk, which their plentiful paper money could not buy 
because there was none to sell. Gallant doctors struggled 
in clinic and hospital with puny children covered with 
running sores, with practically no medicines, no soap, 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

no disinfectants. But for the magnificent help given 
by the American Relief Commission, the Society of 
Friends, and the Save the Children Fund, the coming 
generation would have dwindled out of existence and 
the problem of Vienna solved itself without the aid of 
the dilatory politicians of Paris by the simple process 
of the extermination of its population. As it is tens 
of thousands of child lives and old lives have been ended 
by famine and the diseases of famine ; whilst over a 
long period the number of suicides from hunger and 
despair amounted to scores in every week. 



The first call I made in Vienna was upon Lieutenant- 
Colonel Sir Thomas Gunninghame, at the headquarters 
of the British Military Mission in the Metternichstrasse. 
Sir Thomas is a tall Scotsman, buoyant, kindly and of 
progressive sympathies. He is slightly deaf, but spares 
no effort to try to understand his visitor's needs. He 
gave me generously of his time, to put me in the way 
of understanding Austria's problems. His sympathy 
for the unhappy people he had been appointed to watch 
over was very real, and the universal regard in which I 
discovered him to be held appeared to be thoroughly 
deserved. 

I believe I have not erred in judgment in having 
formed the opinion that, so far as the higher officials 
are concerned, the British Missions in Europe, with one 
or two exceptions, have behaved with a consideration 
and a courtesy towards the people in whose territories 
they were planted which did them great personal credit 
and advanced the real interests of their country in a 
remarkable degree. Wherever I went, in Berlin, Vienna, 
Riga, Reval, I heard the men of our Missions spoken 
of in terms of the highest praise. Unlike the French 
and Italian officers of rank, the British officers frequently 
attended the opera and other public places in plain 
clothes, or at least without their orders. There was no 

U4 



Dying Austria 

swanking about the streets by the younger British 
officers. Rarely was there an ugly and tasteless demon- 
stration of their position as the representatives of the 
conquering Powers, irritating and humiliating to the 
conquered, as in Wiesbaden, where, at a certain time, 
all business must cease and people stop and hats come 
off to pay tribute to the French flag, under pain of 
heavy penalties if it is not done. I have seen for myself 
the strutting about the streets and cafes of Allied officers, 
provocative of scenes like the one in the Hotel Adlon 
where Prince Joachim got himself into trouble ; but 
seldom did I hear of British officers of the higher grade 
behaving with the swagger and bluster of the man who 
tries to maintain his dignity by standing on it ; and who 
never succeeds ! The comparative liking for the English 
in spite of the Peace Treaties and the growing hatred 
of France all over Europe is due in no small measure 
to the better manners of British officials and the greater 
sense of responsibility of the men brought up in the 
British tradition for those placed in their care. 
Noblesse oblige. 

The one criticism of Sir Thomas Gunninghame 
which I heard very mildly expressed by a man who had 
a genuine liking for him was, that he showed too great 
a fondness for the Hungarian aristocracy. This it was 
suggested weakened his usefulness to the new-born 
Austrian democracy. 

The Hungarian aristocrats are charming people 
to meet in a drawing-room. They are handsome 
and clever and full of friendliness ; but cruel as the 
grave when their passions are aroused and credulous 
as babies where their material interests are affected. 
The vilest murderer in the service of the Revolution, 
the pervert and madman Szamuely, was more than 
equalled in ferocity and blood-thirstiness by certain 
delicate Hungarian ladies I know with the best blood 
of Hungary in their veins. It needed a hard grip upon 
principle to turn from denouncing the Red Terror and 

us 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

hear the White Terrorists declare what they would 
do when they got back into power, and not determine 
to be silent in a contest where both sides justify the 
cruellest reprisals. 

Looking on the poverty and misery of the masses 
of Austria and Hungary, a flood of deep anger came 
over me as I thought of the Hungarian in Berne who 
could think of nothing but the loss of her clothes and 
jewels and in particular of a pair of beautiful white boots. 

" I would kill every Bolshevik if I could have my 
wayl; and they shouldn't die an easy death either. I 
would roast them in front of a slow fire. Think of 
what those dirty Jews have done to some of our best 
men. And all my clothes and jewels gone ! I don't 
know what on earth we shall do. We have scarcely a 
penny in the world. Summer is coming and I haven't 
a decent thing to stand up in. My beautiful white 
boots are in Budapest. They are perfect dreams ! 
And to think that those awful Bolsheviks have got them. 
Some horrid little Jewess is pulling them on to her ugly 
feet this very minute, I am positive. I could weep my 
eyes out. You have no idea how nice they are. The 
leather is perfect ; and they come half-way to my knees. 
They are the smartest things ever seen. Oh, my poor 
boots ! " 

After the counter-revolution I saw her and asked 
if she had recovered her belongings. " Every stick, 
my dear. It is wonderful. See my boots ? " And she 
stuck out two beautifully shod feet for me to see, her 
eyes sparkling with pleasure. " They hadn't touched 
a thing. I shall sell the jewels in America. They 
will bring in a handsome sum." 

" Well, you at any rate will be able to speak well 
of the Hungarian Bolsheviks ? " I asked. 

"No, indeed. They are all filthy Jews, and they 
have behaved like savages. Do you know they hanged 
tiny little babies for the fun of the thing and old " 

" Stop, for Heaven's sake," I cried. " Don't talk 

116 



Dying Austria 

like that if you want to be taken seriously. It is too 
silly. You cannot prove what you say, and I, who am 
not a Bolshevik, know that what you say is not true. 
If you talk like that the only effect will be that you 
will make Bolsheviks by the dozen." 



Concerning Entente officials and the counter-revolu- 
tion, all I can say is this : That it is widely believed 
by responsible persons that there is some mysterious 
relationship which does not blend with the general tone 
of the Hungarian Peace Treaty. Hungary has all this 
time been permitted to keep troops far in excess of the 
numbers laid down in the Treaty. The anti-democratic 
policy of the present Hungarian White Government 
has received no rebuke from the Allied Governments. 
The guarantees made to the Social-Democratic Govern- 
ment which succeeded Bela Kun were openly flouted. 
Only the strong agitation by democrats in England 
saved the lives of Professor Agoston and his colleagues, 
guaranteed by the British representative in Vienna ; 
and these men are still in shameful imprisonment. 
And whether it is the fear of France that the union of 
Austria with Germany has become menacing through 
the attempt to make it impossible by denying to Austria 
the right of self-determination in the Peace Treaty, 
and the hope that the restoration of a Magyar ruler 
under French protection would counterbalance such an 
evil, or whether personal matters and the obligations 
of friendship enter into the calculation at all, it is quite 
certain that the tendencies towards a restoration of the 
old order are receiving encouragement from some amazing 
quarters. In all this the public suspicion rests rather 
upon France than upon Great Britain. The utmost of 
which Great Britain is accused is weakness in follow- 
ing, and indecision in the failure to grapple with, the 
Imperialists of France. 

* '# jfC * ^ 

I I 17 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

The union of Austria with Germany was the declared 
policy of the Social Democratic Party which took the 
reins of government after the abdication of the Emperor 
Charles. Dr. Otto Bauer, the Socialist Foreign Minister, 
proclaimed this policy from the housetops, thereby 
alienating the Allies, who demanded and secured his 
resignation in favour of the more tactful and diplomatic 
Renner. When I questioned Frau Freundlich, one of 
the women members of the Austrian Parliament, on the 
unwisdom of so outspoken a declaration of policy at 
such a time, with the nerves of France still atwitter 
with fright, she replied that open diplomacy was more 
honest and straightforward than secret diplomacy, and 
that the Socialists meant to carry out this principle of 
theirs regardless of consequences. I could only agree 
with the first part of her remark, adding to my words 
of approval that, even so, there was a time to speak 
and a time to be silent, and that this noble recklessness 
of consequences might be justified in a Party or a person 
but was doubtful wisdom on the part of a Government 
whose people needed food from the foe to keep them 
alive ! Like Kurt Eisner and his passion for free speech, 
the Social Democrats of Austria would permit of no 
compromise in the matter of the Party programme. 

I met Dr. Otto Bauer at the house of my friend 
Madame Zuckerkandl. We were quaintly assorted guests. 
There was the grave and dignified City Councillor Dr. 
Schwartz-Hiller, whose care of little Jewish refugees 
from Galicia deserves the highest praise. There was the 
wife of an impoverished ex-diplomat, who had spent 
many years in China and who was starving on a pension 
of almost nothing a month ; there was Baron Hennet, 
the charming and able young diplomat whom I had met 
in Berne, known in England for his informed interest 
in agricultural matters and his advocacy of Free Trade ; 
and finally there was Dr. Bauer. 

He is a man of medium height, with a handsome 
young face, inclined to roundness, and the dark hair 

118 



Dying Austria 

and brilliant eyes of the Jewish race. He is justly re- 
puted one of the ablest men in the European Socialist 
Movement. Common report had it at one time that 
he is a Bolshevik ; but his enemies did that for him ! 
I inquired about him at the British Mission and they 
denied this story. I asked Dr. Bauer directly if he 
believed in Bolshevism and received a smiling but 
unequivocal reply in the negative. At the time of our 
talk he was helping to edit the great Socialist newspaper, 
the Arbeiter Zeitung, in the absence of the regular editor, 
Dr. Austerlitz, who was lying ill. His influence was much 
feared by the French. And his policy appears to-day 
to be likely to succeed in spite of the prohibition of the 
Peace Treaty, which forbids for all time the union with 
Germany unless with the unanimous approval of the 
League of Nations. If the Allies had determined on 
an act which would help the Austrians to achieve their 
desires they could not have done better than make it 
a point in the Treaty. The manifest injustice of refusing 
to Austria what is granted in theory to every other 
country in the world, the right to determine its own 
form of government, has united with the Social Democrats 
thousands of Austrians who had previously opposed 
this political proposal. Now it is clear from the Tyrol 
plebiscite of 97 per cent, in favour of the union that the 
policy has become national and must sooner or later 
be successful. The language of the Austrians is German. 
There appears to be little hope of substantial co-operation 
with the succession states for a very long time to come. 
The Austrians are ill-disposed to the eternal spoon- 
feeding of the Allies, which must mean expensive and 
irregular meals, with a constant threat of the with- 
drawal of supplies if something does not please the 
nurses. To the overwhelming majority of the six 
millions of Austria's population the only means of living 
appears to be union with Germany, with a people speak- 
ing the same language and a country lying on their 
border. 

119 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

But at the time of my visit to Austria there was 
a considerable difference of opinion in Vienna on the 
subject of the best future political arrangement for 
Austria. A number of people formerly of power and 
influence expressed hostility to the idea of union with 
Germany. They dreaded the merging of Austrian 
individuality in that of the stronger partner. They 
contemplated with real distress the future of their 
beautiful Vienna as a second-class city on the frontier 
of civilization instead of the sun and centre of culture 
which it had been. Some positively disliked the Prussian 
association because of its disciplined militarism. A 
few with the spirit of the flunkey desired to please 
the Allies. Others recognized the danger of flouting the 
Allies. 

Of the various alternatives to the proposed union 
there were two which received noteworthy support, 
that which suggested union with the mild regime of a 
Bavaria independent of Prussia, and that which advocated 
what was called a Danubian Federation which should 
comprise the old states, and possibly Bavaria. The 
economic dependence of the states comprising the former 
Austro-Hungarian Empire was becoming clearer with 
every day that passed. The natural advantages as a 
clearing-house for trade and commerce of Vienna, in 
the centre of the system, as well as its amazing cultural 
facilities, provided every reason in common sense for 
a proposal of this sort. But hostile to the idea were those 
in Austria who would have welcomed an economic 
union apart from a political union, but who were unable 
to see how the one could be achieved without the other 
eventually following. The new states, particularly Czecho- 
slovakia, jealous of any proposal which might restore 
to Vienna the importance they were determined to 
attach to Prague, pursued a policy of self-interest which 
menaced the very existence of Austria as an independent 
state, and looked askance at any idea of economic union 
between themselves and their ancient enemy. Anti- 

120 



Dying Austria 

German feeling there was too pronounced for any other 
than the most individualistic action. Pro-German feeling 
in German-Austria favoured the union with Germany. 
The propaganda for the federation was conducted chiefly 
by agents abroad, and as I have already shown, a suc- 
cession of events has made the proposal for union with 
Germany, originally the proposal of a party, a matter 
of united national policy. 



Apart from its foreign policy the political problem 
of Austria appeared to be presenting itself along the 
line of peasant versus town worker. This is more or 
less true of every country in Europe. The peasants 
hated the city of Vienna. They had to maintain the 
two and a quarter millions of its population and got 
no adequate return for this in manufactured goods. 
The city could not manufacture for lack of raw materials 
and coal. The peasants disliked the " Red '■ Government 
because it fixed the price of foodstuffs in the interests 
of the poor of the towns careless of the reduced profits 
of the peasants. They disliked the towns because they 
were irreligious and full of the hated Jews. All these 
causes worked (and are working all over Central Europe 
and in Russia) at the time I was in Vienna. 

" I very much fear," said Otto Bauer to me, " that 
the social problem of Europe for a generation or more 
will be the town against the country. And which will 
win ? " The victory of the country seems imminent. 
It has conquered in Bavaria and, in a measure, in Austria. 
It will conquer in Russia. And the victory of the 
country in European politics does not mean maypoles 
and flowers and flowing beer and fat living for every- 
body. It means, at present, the reign of ignorance 
and bigotry and superstition and individualism, and the 
decline of all the things which make for a cultivated 
civilization. 



121 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

The second party in the state then, the first at the 
present moment, was the Christian Socialist. How 
they got the name I have not yet learnt. There is no 
means of proving that they are not Christian ; but they 
are certainly not Socialists ! I imagine they came by 
the name for a certain historic interest in schemes of 
municipalization, but their chief leaders are big capitalists, 
and their chief supporters the small shopkeepers of the 
cities and the peasant farmers of the country. They 
approximate to the old Liberals of the Manchester 
school in England. Free trade is an important plank 
in their programme. Their efforts in 1919 were being 
directed against the decontrol of food, and Mr. Julius 
Meinl's theses on the subject have appeared in English 
in certain journals devoted to a similar policy. Dr. Red- 
lich, the eminent writer, whose book on the British 
Constitution is regarded as the authoritative work upon 
the subject in much the same way as Lord Bryce's 
volume on the American Constitution is said to be the 
last word on that subject, is another gifted leader of this 
now dominant party. So far the moderation of its 
course has saved the country from the reaction that a 
too-swift swing of the pendulum almost invariably 
produces. 



Amongst the women friends I made in Vienna one 
stands out with peculiar interest. She is the lady to 
whom I have already referred, Frau Zuckerkandl, the 
widow of a very eminent Austrian physician, and one 
of the most delightful women it is possible to meet 
anywhere. I saw her first in her dainty flat, dressed 
in a fluttering loose robe of diaphanous silky material, 
a fairy figure with heaped-up masses of bright hair 
and rather tired blue eyes. Less than fifteen minutes 
sufficed to teach each of us that there were intellectual 
and spiritual bonds between us that made friendship 
ripe at the first contact. Both of us are devotees of 

122 



Dying Austria 

good music. Both passionately admire the drama. 
Both recognize in art the living spirit of a true and lasting 
internationalism. Both feel the service of the oppressed 
to be a glorious privilege. Only twice or thrice in one's 
life comes a friendship so rare and precious as I felt 
and feel this to be. 

Frau Zuckerkandl's father was the editor and pro- 
prietor of a great newspaper. She is a writer of merit, 
and was the musical critic for a Viennese journal. We 
visited the Opera together several times. This mar- 
vellous people, half-famished and almost wholly despair- 
ing, crowded the Opera House night by night, to revel 
at the feast of song which was the only rich banquet 
left them, and the last table they would willingly leave. 
" We can live without bread, but not without roses." 

My friend is related by marriage to the great Clemen- 
ceau. Her sister is the wife of " The Tiger's " brother. 
I think it was she who told me the story that was afloat 
in Europe at that time of how, when Clemenceau was 
charged by some of his insatiable fellow-countrymen 
with having made a peace bad for France, he replied : 
" But how could I do better, with a fool on one side 
who thought he was Napoleon, and a damned fool on 
the other who thought he was Jesus Christ ? " 



Another good story which was going the round of 
the Vienna cafes deserves to be repeated. In one of 
the cafes, years before the war, a young Jew sat sipping 
his coffee day by day. Nobody was in the least interested 
in him, and he was distinguished for nothing except a 
shabby dress and a wild mop of tangled hair. His 
name was Trotsky. 

In those days everybody was talking about the 
Russian Revolution. Many were fearful of it. The 
Vienna Foreign Office was constantly being warned 
about its coming, and worried to death about the 
consequences upon Vienna of its coming. 

123 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Exasperated beyond endurance by the endless fears 
of his colleagues, and full of contempt for them, one 
of the higher officials exclaimed : " But what nonsense 
is this talk of a Russian Revolution ; who is to make 
the revolution ? There is nobody. Perhaps " — and here 
came a gesture of superb contempt — " Mr. Trotsky of 
the Cafe Centrale ! " 



A trip to Semmering was one of the excursions which 
consoled one a little for the desolate spectacle of empty 
markets and idle factories, of a disintegrating civic 
life. Semmering is a four hours' motor drive from 
Vienna, beautifully placed near the Styrian frontier. 
It is a health resort full at that time of rich refugees. 
At a simple guest-house on the slope of one of the hills 
President Seitz and his wife, with a few members of his 
Cabinet, recuperated during the week-ends for the arduous 
duties of the week. His secretary took me out there 
for the day. We were again a curiously mixed group. 
The overworked and courteous secretary was a baron 
of the old regime. Professor Leon Kellner, hearty in 
manner and ruddy of complexion, the famous Shake- 
spearean scholar, was there ; Otto Grockney, Minister 
for Education, gravely peering through spectacles at 
the new-comer ; and Dr. Seitz. 

Of this first President of the Socialist Republic of 
Austria, Karl Seitz, I have written before. He is a kind, 
amiable, benevolent, distinguished-looking man with a 
keen sense of humour. Someone hearing him thus praised 
exclaimed : " But what else do you expect from a 
President of Austria ? " Looking at this polite and 
suave man of the world, every inch a president, it is 
with difficulty that one realizes that he was once on a 
time the fiercest leader of the Socialist Opposition in 
the turbulent Austrian Parliament. He started his 
career as an elementary school-teacher, became the fire- 
brand of the Lower Austrian Diet and ended as 

124 



Dying Austria 

the President ! He is a speaker of very great elo- 
quence and power. He was always well liked, even 
by his opponents, and is extremely popular. Very few 
of the new type of potentate have the heart, the mind, 
the manners so ready to fit the new position. 



Dr. Max Winter, the kind-hearted Vice-Burger- 
meister of Vienna, is the man to whom I owe most of 
my acquaintance with the civic life of the city. Day 
after day he or his secretary or his son, who had been 
a prisoner of war in England, took me out to see in 
particular what was being done for the children. Dr. 
Winter is always spoken of as " the children's Mayor," 
for the children are his very serious concern. In his 
company I saw the public feeding centres of the Americans, 
the clinics supervised by the Friends, the children's hospi- 
tals so sadly lacking funds, the open-air play-centres 
in the public parks, and the country schools. The houses 
of rich nobles who have fled and the palaces of the ex- 
Kaiser were used for this purpose. There was a par- 
ticularly attractive little hospital and feeding centre in 
a corner of the Schonbrunn Palace for those children 
whose parents could afford to contribute a little towards 
their keep, I think two crowns a day, worth at that time 
about one penny. At the holiday camps in the parks 
the children ran about all day in bathing suits, and very 
brown and jolly they looked with the exposure to the 
sun and the regular, if scarcely sufficient, food. " Freund- 
schaft ! Freundschaft ! " they cried, running to kiss 
my hand after the custom of the country. Sometimes 
they sang their little songs and danced their pretty 
dances. Beautiful brown-eyed Viennese children danc- 
ing in paper dresses, and crowned with wood flowers 
in the Wiener Wald ! I see them now in the mind's 
eye, waving their thin arms and smiling sweetly, with 
not a thought of the bitter, cruel thing which is robbing 
them of health and life in their innocent young hearts. 

125 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

After a sad excursion one day to the market, where 
little girls of twelve lay all night with their baskets 
waiting for the opening of the butcher's shop, and the 
scramble for the ration of meat for the family dinner, 
I found waiting for me in the hotel about twenty women 
and one child all robed in deep black. They had come 
with a petition. It was to ask me to help them to get 
their husbands out of Russia, prisoners of war there. 
Some had not been heard of for four years. Terrible 
stories of their sufferings had come through. The 
women were frantic with grief. They had been to the 
Mayor ; he could do nothing. They had been to the 
Government ; the Government had made promises but 
done nothing. They had been to the Allied Missions 
and had been sent away empty. They were beginning 
to believe that the Government and the Allies were in 
concert to keep the men in Russia because of their fear 
of Bolshevist infection — afraid that the men had 
become converts. Someone had suggested that perhaps 
I could help. They begged with quivering lips that I 
would do something. Suddenly the child, a little fair- 
haired thing, sprang from her mother's side, and falling 
on her knees at my feet, clasped her tiny hands and said 
in lisped English : " Dear kind English lady, do bring 
my daddy back to me." The women burst into tears, 
such a sobbing and a wailing as would have melted a 
stone. It was deeply painful. What could I do ? I 
promised to interest the women's organizations of 
England and the Labour Party, and immediately wrote 
to both. Alas ! when the relief came, thousands, tens 
of thousands, had died in exile, destroyed by hunger 
and disease. 



The journey back to Berne was much quicker and 
more comfortable. By special permission I returned 
by the children's train. Six hundred small victims of 
the famine came every six or seven weeks to hospitable 

126 



Dying Austria 

Switzerland ; I travelled with one train load. I can add 
nothing to the description of the sufferers I have already 
given ; but I can add a word of praise of the Swiss. 
They have raised for themselves a lasting monument 
in the affections of the Austrian people, and have set 
an example of practical internationalism which should 
shame all those whose faith in blockades and tariffs 
and embargoes and prohibitions is not yet dead. But 
for the Swiss and the Americans Austria's plight would 
have been beyond hope, and the world would be the 
poorer by the loss of one of the most cultivated, artistic 
and lovable races which have contributed to the happiness 
and elevation of mankind. Very late in the day the 
men of Paris have moved towards the relief of Vienna. 
Perhaps it is not quite too late to save the remnant. 
But the martyrs have been many, and the agony long. 



127 



CHAPTER VIII 

AFTER ONE YEAR 

At the first meeting of the International in Berne in 
1919 I was very much interested in a lively little man 
from Alsace-Lorraine. His name was Grambach, and 
he had a house in Berne, and a handsome wife with bright 
hair and a plump figure. In appearance he reminded 
me a little of an English coachman. He was smooth- 
shaven, with a bit of hair left on either cheek in the 
old-fashioned way. His face was round, and he had 
a sweet and rather childlike mouth. His eyes were very 
merry, and his manner kind. But the roar of him when 
he spoke was like that of a mad bull. He was very angry 
with the Germans, and could not contain himself on 
the platform, foaming at the mouth almost, as he lashed 
out at those unfortunate men on the front row. He 
made an excellent double bass to Renaudel's tenor and 
Thomas's baritone, whenever the wild music got going. 
And just as suddenly he melted into the utmost amia- 
bility. He disliked their past, and suspected the future 
policy of the Germans in relation to his own country. 
I have not seen him since the early days in Berne ; but 
I have heard that his present discontent is with French 
administration and French behaviour in the restored 
provinces and that he favours an independent Alsace- 
Lorraine within the French orbit. I wonder what is 
true ? 

Another Alsatian of a different type was Rene 
Schickele, one of the leaders of the younger German 
poets. I met him also in Berne, but not at the Con- 
ference. This young and distinguished dramatist was 

128 



After One Year 

introduced to me by Annette Kolb. He impressed 
me as shy and diffident ; but that may have been the 
embarrassment of not knowing English. There is no 
barrier like that of not knowing the language of an 
acquaintance. He promised to learn English for our 
next meeting, and I promised myself to learn enough 
German to be intelligible. But how can one learn 
foreign languages when everybody abroad wants to 
practise his English ? 

During the war Schickele placed himself in oppo- 
sition to the German Government. He was a German 
citizen then. Now he is in opposition to France. He 
is a French citizen now. The cynic would smile and talk 
of the passion for self-advertising ; but I think there 
is a reasonable case for this position in a pacifist, who 
is out to smite the ugly spirit of militarism whenever 
and wherever it raises its offending head. 

His play Hans in Schnakenloch was an attempt 
to give a just exposition of the psychology of French 
and Germans in Alsace-Lorraine. The Germans called 
it Francophile, the French considered it pro-German. 
It had an immense success in Germany in 1917, until 
it was suppressed by the military censor. Schickele 
belongs to the Clarte group. Fried, who died a short 
time ago, the kindly sentimentalist, but courageous 
Austrian pacifist, so long exiled in Switzerland, who 
won the Nobel prize, was another member of the band. 
Rene Claparede of Geneva, Barbusse and Anatole France 
belong to the same group. Their policy is very much 
the same as that of the Union of Democratic Control 
in England. The poet's ultimate aim in politics is the 
friendship and conciliation of Germany and France. 

* * * * * 

When I was invited to attend the French Socialist 
Congress in Strasburg in January of 1920, exactly 
one year after the first meeting of the Second International, 
I thought of these two personalities, the only human 

129 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

connexion I had with Alsace, and hoped to meet again 
in their capital city of ancient fame and modern inter- 
est these two able men. Neither, however, was 
present. 

But Renaudel was there, and Longuet and Marquet, 
and all the hosts of fighting French Socialism. 

The battle of the two Internationals was by this 
time waxing fast and furious. The Italians had split 
in two, the French were about to follow, the British 
were threatened. My commission to the French con- 
gress was to convey greetings from the British Labour 
Party to the delegates ; but also to make it clear that 
the Labour Party intended to cleave to the Second 
International in spite of the efforts of a few voluble 
intransigeants to draw it into the Third. 

These various Internationals must be confusing to 
the average reader. The First was founded by Karl 
Marx and Professor Beesly in 1866, and dissolved in 
the wars of 1871. The Second was re-established in 
1889, and discontinued its activities during the world- 
war. Its meeting in Berne I have already fully described. 
The success of the Revolution in Russia filled with arro- 
gance the souls of the dominant Bolsheviks who deter- 
mined to unite the entire world-Socialist Movement 
under their flag. They would dominate, command, 
discipline from Moscow every country in the world. 
They drew up twenty-one theses which they insisted 
should be accepted by all who would join them — the 
Third International. These included dictatorship instead 
of democracy, revolution by violence, and the abolition 
by force of the whole institution of private property, 
as against other methods of securing a just social and 
industrial order. 

Round these two sets of proposals and methods the 
conflict has raged. Every Socialist Movement in Europe 
was split from top to bottom. America copied. New 
and ever new Internationals threatened to be born 
of the dissident sections. Capitalist Europe rocked 

130 



After One Year 

with laughter. To keep the working-classes divided 
amongst themselves has always been the wisdom and 
the joy of the intelligent in the possessing classes. The 
Socialist Movement began to look ridiculous. It has 
not yet got back to common sense and sweet reasonable- 
ness. In the various national movements, arrogant and 
conceited young men are continually making fresh 
" caves." Offshoots of bumptious young people and 
venerable idiots, who think that wisdom will die with 
them, keep the general movement in a turmoil of quarrel- 
someness whilst the enemy consolidates his ranks. The 
pity and the folly of it ! 

So far as I could discover there were at least five 
sections in the French Conference apparently hating 
one another far more keenly than the outsider. There 
was the Extreme Right, which had supported the war 
without question. There was the Extreme Left which 
had opposed it without tact. There was the following 
of Renaudel who opposed the Moscow International. 
There were the adherents of Vaillant-Couturier who 
supported it. There were the friends of Longuet, who 
did both. I do not mean that these last belonged to 
the cult of the jumping cat ! They were not mean and 
" discreet." They simply wanted to leave the door 
open for a future reunion of the two bodies of disputants. 

I spent the first day listening to the eloquent wranglings 
of the sections, and then went to view the city of Stras- 
burg. The old parts are French, but the solid new parts 
of the city are German. It is a quiet old city of cafes 
and quaint streets and houses. It is dominated by its 
wonderful cathedral with the historic clock. The small 
hotel where I stayed, with its German proprietor, was 
a model of cleanliness. In front ran the canalized river. 
Bands of troops, black and white, marched through the 
streets, but the citizens paid little attention to them. 
Only once did I see a touching thing. A few bold boys 
marched singing a tune with a familiar sound about it. 
I stopped to look and listen. Near me was a student, 

'3' 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

a boy of twenty-three or four, with a broad round face 
and rather long fair hair. He had tears in his eyes, 
and held his cap in his hand. What had moved him ? 
Not that simple, boyish singing ? Was it the song ? 
I caught the word " Heimland " as the lads marched 
past, and — yes — there was just one phrase in the song 
which brought to mind the English melody, " Home, 
sweet home ! " 



On the second day I made my speech. The gallant 
Frenchmen received it well, and I left the platform in 
a storm of cheers. But that was for the woman and 
not the speech ; for they did not understand a word, 
and they voted heavily for the Third International at 
a subsequent meeting ! The split was inevitable. 

The next day I left for Berne en route for Geneva 
and the conference of the Save the Children Fund. I 
had to spend several hours at Basle and arrived 
in Berne at six in the evening. But what was the matter 
with the place ? The station was as quiet as a church 
on weekdays. And the Hotel Belle Vue was like a 
huge crypt, cold and clammy and empty. In that 
great lounge and immense drawing-room capable of 
holding comfortably a thousand persons, there were 
not three people ! The drawing-room was dark ; and 
the lounge lit by only a few dim lights. Were all the 
people in their rooms, or what was wrong ? 

" You are very quiet, aren't you ? " I asked the 
hotel clerk as I signed the register. 

" Yes, madam," he replied. " Most people are 
leaving Berne. Here are several letters for you which 
are probably from some of your friends." 

I tore open the letters one after the other. Mr. 
Rudolf Kommer had gone to Berlin. Mrs. Lord was 
in Lugano. Prince Windischgraetz was in Paris. His 
wife had left for Prague. The group of German pacifists 
had returned to Berlin. Dr. de Jong was in Basle. 

132 



After One Year 

M. Zalewski, the Polish Minister in Berne, whom I 
had met in England, and with whom I had renewed 
my acquaintance in Switzerland, was rumoured to have 
gone as Minister to Athens. Madame de Rusiecka, 
another Polish friend, was living in Geneva. Baron 
Szilassy and his sister were in Bex. Mr. de Kay was in 
Lucerne. Mr. Savery had been sent to the Legation 
in Warsaw — all, all had gone, the old familiar faces ! 
And what a desolation they had left ! 

I gathered up my letters and prepared to take a 
walk to discover if there were anybody left. Was the 
Assyrian giant with the Gargantuan appetite still 
sitting in the Wiener Cafe ? I have referred before to 
Dr. Ludwig Bauer, but he deserves another word. For 
he was a truly remarkable journalist. From the early 
days of the war he wrote every day, without exception, 
the leading article on politics for the Basle National 
Zeitung. His articles were always marked rfp — so he 
became known as the " Kreuzlbauer." They were 
read all over the country, a thing which happene I for 
the first time in the journalistic history of Switzei and, 
it was said. The little Basle paper became sudc enly 
an organ of national importance. The international 
representatives, diplomats, foreign correspondents, pro- 
pagandists read the articles with great care. It is a 
curious fact that this Austrian was spoken of as " the 
only neutral in Switzerland." The French Swiss were 
more French than the French. The German Swiss 
were more German than the Germans. The Swiss 
Government tried to steer an equal course between the 
two sets of belligerents. There the Austrian journalist 
was useful. He expressed neutrality day by day. His 
articles were quoted in Paris and in Berlin. Occasionally 
his paper was excluded from one or the other, he himself 
being bitterly attacked by both sides. Most of all was 
he attacked by his Swiss colleagues who resented the 
great success of the foreign intruder, with a mentality 
more Swiss than their own. Another and a greatei 

J i33 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

alien, Friedrich Schiller, whose " Wilhelm Tell " is 
the classic reading of Swiss youth, never saw Switzerland, 
but had caught the Swiss spirit better than some of the 
sons of the soil ! 



Dr. Bauer was not at the cafe. Neither were the 
jewelled and fragrant women who used to sip its sparkling 
wines, whilst they waited in the ante-chamber to Paris 
for their visa for the Heaven of their dreams. The war 
produced large numbers of this feminine type. I knew 
several of them. Sometimes beautiful, often wealthy, 
in spite of fallen money values, they played their game 
of coquetry in Berne to while away the time till better 
things came in sight. The ghastly tragedy of famine 
passed them by. The sufferings of the war left them 
cold. The colossal spectacle of Europe's downfall was 
nothing to them. Clothes, jewels, fine furniture, a 
good social position were the only things which counted 
with them. Their lovers from the broken countries 
they flouted. They had just enough practical sense 
to see that the things they wanted were not to be found 
in the land of their birth. Their men had become 
ineligible. They would take husbands from the lands 
of the conquerors. The " Entente husband " became 
an institution and the fair husband-hunters a joke. 
Beauty, wealth maintained by gambling in exchanges, 
in return for an " Entente husband " and a visum for 
Paris and the glory of silks and scents and a place with 
the conquerors ! I know one such woman, a beautiful 
Pole — but let me be merciful ! 



On my return to the hotel I found a note from an 
American friend asking me to dine and saying she would 
call for me at eight. This was cheering. How it is 
known so quickly that one is in a place passes my 
comprehension ! Punctually at eight she burst into my 

i34 



After One Year 

room, looking as radiant as the May, although she is 
nearly forty. 

" Tell me," I asked. " How do you keep yourself 
so young, you amazing woman ? " 

" Simple enough," she retorted. " Massage and a 
blameless life, my dear." 

We dined with several members of the Hungarian 
Red Cross, gone crazy with hate of Bolshevism, who 
talked themselves hoarse about the iniquities of the 
Jews and ate so many oysters that I began to be nervous 
for their constitutions. And so ended the last of my 
days in Berne. 



I was too late for the Geneva Conference. The 
delegates had had their last sitting, and only a social 
function to say farewell remained. There I met a number 
of dear friends full of good works. I have written of 
Mrs. Buxton and her sister. These and their like com- 
pensate the world for the idle and mischievous butterflies 
waiting for their Paris visa and frocks and jewels. 

At the theatre that evening a curious little international 
group talked of their many adventures of travel, with 
the difficulties of getting passports as a conspicuous item 
of conversation. One spoke of the amount he had had 
to pay in bribes in Rumania, another of having lost 
his passport. " But I had a receipted tailor's bill in 
my pocket. The Austrian Royal Arms were at the head. 
It was an old bill. And they accepted it as my passport 
without a question. It looked important and the fellow 
who looked at it couldn't read a word, so there was no 
trouble ! " A little picture of Balkan Europe which tells 
a story one can read only too well. 

Baron Ofenheim is reputed to be one of the wealthiest 
men in Austria. I only know him as the kindest of 
friends and the most tender-hearted of men. He has a 
connexion of many years' standing with England and 
is a man of great business capacity, which he has 

'35 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

devoted to helping his unfortunate country out of her 
terribly trying situation. He was one of the most 
helpful delegates to the Fight the Famine Conference 
in London. He attended the Geneva Conference urging 
a better organization than he believed the Save the 
Children Fund had then achieved. He favoured activity 
on a larger scale by a more representative body of people 
than he considered the organizers of the Fund to be at 
that time. Doubtless the much superior organization 
that the Fund has achieved under the able secretaryship 
of Mr. Golden would satisfy the most severe critic, 
including the Herr Baron. With him was Sir Cyril 
Butler, at one time a British official in Vienna. With 
the opinion of these two distinguished men that Vienna 
would be a far more useful centre for the League of 
Nations than Geneva, I heartily agree. 



Seven months later, in July, 1920, was held in this 
same city of conferences the second full gathering of 
the Second International. A further description of its 
proceedings is not necessary. Controversy followed the 
same lines as before. But there was a new tone, a better 
spirit. Germans, French and Belgians grew amicable 
once more, friendly without being effusive. The British 
Delegation numbered this time a few delegates of the 
" extreme left." They were attending an international 
conference for the first time. They found the quiet unity 
too tame. They spoke of the Conference, in private, as 
dead if not damned. They turned their eyes, if not towards 
Moscow, away from the work in hand. With the mis- 
taken judgment of the new-comer they made fiery pro- 
paganda speeches, forgetting that they were not talking 
at the street corners, but to a body of Socialists, many 
of whom were of the best and most intelligent minds in 
Europe, some of whom had suffered long years of imprison- 
ment and exile for their political faith. They wanted 
a demonstration and welcomed the interruptions from 

136 



After One Year 

the gallery which made Huysmans threaten to clo9e 
it. The interrupters were a band of very young men 
with wild hair and red ties. A foolish business. . . . 



I had a call one day from Baron Bornemiza, the able 
Hungarian Minister to Berne, whose practical common 
sense is a great asset to his country, falling from a frenzy 
of Red fever into a fury of White. He speaks wonderful 
English and is not un-English in appearance, tall and 
straight and broad-shouldered. He was concerned about 
the cartoons of Admiral Horthy which the International 
was said to be exhibiting on its stall at the Conference. 
I imagine the local Socialists would be responsible for 
the literature stall. I never saw the alleged cartoons. 
They were probably as tasteless and vulgar as most 
such things. But it is a pity to pay any attention to 
them. In England one laughs when one is the subject 
of these exaggerated and generally offensive pictures. 
I told His Excellency so. Admiral Horthy must be 
like the King of England. The King is above the law 
of libel. Or at least he must not condescend to notice 
his traducers. To do that is to give them an importance 
they would not otherwise possess. The atrocities of 
the Hungarian White Terror, for which Horthy was 
believed to be responsible, would be the cartoonist's 
justification of his pictures. 

One other person must be mentioned here and then 
this narrative closes. Dr. Marie de Rusiecka is a Polish 
lady doctor who served during the Serbian retreat. 
The stories she is able to tell of that appalling disaster 
to the Serbian Army make one sick with a shuddering 
horror. She became an enthusiastic propagandist for 
peace and all the things which make for peace. She 
exiled herself from her native land and took up her 
abode in Geneva. Like all holding her views she was per- 
secuted and slandered. The terribly pro-French Genevese 
declared her to be pro-German and made life in Geneva 

i37 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

impossible for her. She went to Berne. She did more 
than any other woman, and probably as much, or more, 
than any one person, to organize the League of Nations 
Conference. I met her there. Afterwards she took 
part in the women's conference at Zurich, and organized 
for Mrs. Despard and myself a highly successful meeting 
in Berne on the subject of the Treaty of Versailles. 

She is a slight little woman, of fair complexion and 
energetic manner. She has a soft voice, but is quietly 
convinced and determined. No effort is too much which 
will advance the cause of peace. She is almost too 
grateful for any assistance. She is, I believe, deeply 
religious. She took rooms at the Hotel de France, a 
small and humble hotel in Berne, and there she worked 
like a Trojan. I do not think she is a rich woman, but 
she must be spending the whole of her means on this 
work for peace. 

Dr. Rusiecka has produced a French edition of Foreign 
Affairs. She is helping to edit a newspaper in Geneva 
along with the distinguished pacifist M. Rene Claparede. 

Nothing can discourage this gallant little woman. 
I have known things happen to her which would have 
driven most women into the haven of private life. But 
she goes on — brave, strong, defiant of wrong, defendant 
of right. Wherever in Europe the word peace is spoken 
and meant the name of Dr. Rusiecka will be found to 
be associated with it. 



138 



CHAPTER IX 

MORE ABOUT RUSSIA 

I have told the story of my visit to Russia in a separate 
volume. A reference to the last chapter of " Through 
Bolshevik Russia " would help towards a clearer under- 
standing of the few additional pages upon Russia which 
are all that can be spared to it in this book. That chapter 
speculates upon the future of Soviet Russia. 

I have seen no reason since writing that book to revise 
in the slightest degree the judgment of Bolshevism there 
expressed. One of the points of criticism levelled against 
it by those who questioned the wisdom of its publication, 
but not the sincerity of its writer, was that I had not been 
sufficiently careful to distinguish between Bolshevism 
for the Russians and Bolshevism for this country. The 
one, it was argued, was necessary for the break-up of 
capitalism in Russia. It is unnecessary for the break- 
up of capitalism in a country where every adult person 
is equipped either with the vote or with the right of 
industrial organization. 

With the argument I am not for the moment con- 
cerned ; but I have indeed written foggily if it is not clear 
from my writing that / am hostile to Bolshevism as a 
political creed and system, and to its application to Russia 
only less than to its imposition upon England. The 
attempt to destroy an idea with guns is stupid at 
any time. To try to destroy it by force of arms in 
Russia was an unwarrantable cruelty on the part of the 
Allies, an impertinent interference in another country's 
internal affairs, and the crowning act of folly of an 
Entente which has distinguished itself for acts of 
madness since the days of the Armistice. 

J 39 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Perhaps it would be as well to state once again some 
of the reasons which moved me to criticism of the Bol- 
shevik leaders, their programme and their policy. 

First, let it be admitted once more, and emphasized 
in a manner which can leave no doubt in the reader's 
mind, that for the nameless sufferings of the Russian 
people from hunger, cold and disease, and for the state 
of war which has kept Europe restless, unsettled and 
distressed for the two and a half years since the Armistice, 
the Allied Governments must bear the chief burden of 
responsibility. During the whole of that time Russia 
was engaged gallantly beating off one military adventurer 
after another, equipped by the Allies with arms and stores. 
She did not want war. She desired above all things 
peace. With her wireless she filled the air with cries for 
peace even whilst she dealt triumphant blows to the right 
and left of her, as one foe succeeded another. These 
wireless waves struck upon the ears of the whole world 
and turned pitying hearts towards Russia who had no 
love for Russia's Bolshevism. Still peace was denied. 
France, crazy with fear of a possible Russo-German 
alliance, supplied one adventurer after another with the 
necessary equipment, in pursuit of a policy which made 
for the very thing she dreaded. England with her ships 
blockaded Russia's ports, sowing a deadly hatred for 
this country in the hearts of mothers and fathers of little 
children dead of hunger, and making inevitable a Russian 
policy in the East unfavourable to British interests. 

But this fully granted, the Russian Bolsheviks must 
accept a very considerable part of the blame. These 
men and women are not fools. The chiefs are highly 
educated and widely read. They have an incomparable 
knowledge of world affairs. I very much doubt if there 
is a man living with a larger acquaintance with the 
foreign politics of the world than the brilliant 
Radek, or a woman who knows more of Socialist 
history and organization than Madame Balabanova. 
What outsider can judge with perfect fairness the act of 

140 



More About Russia 

a great man in the critical epochs of his country's 
history ? It may have seemecTto the Bolshevik leaders, 
in order to stop the fatal disintegration of Russia's 
economic life which was the first fruit of peace and the 
Revolution, of the first necessity to seize power and 
destroy the beginnings of democratic growth exemplified 
in the Zemstvo and the National Assembly. Their 
contempt for any democracy other than a Communist 
democracy may have sincerely justified itself in their eyes 
in the miserable circumstances of the time of the Second 
Revolution. I indict them much less for their swift 
deeds in the early days of the Revolution than for their 
settled policy after the Revolution was accomplished, 
although they must have known that both the one and 
the other would give the enemies of Russia in Western 
Europe the excuse for invading her for which they were 
looking. 

No consideration was shown of the effect upon the 
Russian town populations of the attempt to carry out 
their complete party programme, with its consequent 
provocation of blockades, embargoes and wars, at a time 
when three years of war with Germany had used up even 
the vast Russian resources and worn her weary soldiers 
to the very bone and marrow of them. One noted 
Bolshevik met my remonstrances against the policy, 
which meant the wilful sacrifice of the entire population 
of Petrograd, with the words : " But the population of 
one city, what is that ? Three-quarters of a million ? 
Well, but there are plenty of millions left in Russia." 

This is the true militarist psychology. I almost 
imagined I heard Mr. Winston Churchill speak ; or 
General Ludendorff ; or Marshal Foch. 

The inevitable consequence of forcing a programme 
upon a people unripe for it, or unwilling, is tyranny and 
terror. In Ireland it is the tyranny of the minority. 
In Russia it is the tyranny of the minority. In 
Russia it is called the " dictatorship of the proletariat," 
a mere phrase, apt as most clever phrases to enslave and 

141 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

corrupt. The dictatorship of the proletariat means, in 
Russia, the dictatorship of a handful of clever political 
economists, very few of whom are proletarians, over an 
immense mass of peasants and workmen. Their intelli- 
gent support they drew from the workmen of the towns, 
their tacit support from the peasants, whom they bribed 
with the promise of land. Indeed, they established a 
system of virtual peasant proprietorship, creating a 
thousand vested interests where one had existed before, 
and yielding up the first plank in their programme in 
the very first hour of their power ! 

I do not charge the Bolshevik leaders with wilfully 
contriving terror and torture. I do not suggest they 
wallowed delightedly in the blood of fellow creatures. 
Ignorant and lustful brutes, self-elevated to power in 
remote towns and villages, did deeds in the name of the 
Soviet which make distressing reading. The official 
Terror of the Government was aimed at their own firm 
establishment and not carried on for the mere pleasure 
of killing. But the Communist philosophy predicates 
terror, and advocates its ruthless use against the adver- 
sary in the supposed interests of a glorious eventuality. 
To such lengths does the policy that the end justifies the 
means bring men and women otherwise humane ! To such 
dangers is a population brought which permits its 
minority to ride rough-shod over the majority as in 
Russia ! 

That Lenin and the others sincerely desired peace in 
the beginning I am convinced. At Brest-Litovsk they 
issued a manifesto to the world which, for the idealism 
of its language and the beauty of its appeal, has not been 
surpassed in the political and diplomatic history of man- 
kind. It was a plea to all the nations and their govern- 
ments to stop fighting and to make peace upon the basis 
of self-determination for the nations and without penal 
indemnities for the conquered, the programme after- 
wards professed by Allied statesmen in order to under- 
mine the resistance of the German people. The crime of 

142 



More About Russia 

rejecting this proposal rests with Germans and Allies 
alike. Mutual fears, hates, mistrusts were too strong, 
too deeply ingrained, and the Russian idealists were 
despised and rejected of men ! 

The Trotsky who raised the banner of universal peace 
at Brest-Litovsk, the prince of pacifists, became the prince 
of militarists, the great war lord of a hundred and fifty 
millions of people stung to arms again. The marvellously 
revived and sternly disciplined armies of Trotsky have 
performed miracles of soldier-craft which have filled 
an astonished world with reluctant admiration, tossing 
aside their enemies, Judenitch, Petlura, Koltchak, 
Denikin, and Wrangel, like terriers in a barn full of rats. 
Such exploits and the sympathetic agitation they aroused 
in the Allied countries compelled the Allies to face facts, 
always a difficult thing for them to do ; and the out- 
standing fact of the situation is that, whether Bolshe- 
vism be approved or not, Soviet Russia must be taken 
into account in the shaping of the foreign policies of 
the Western Powers by a statesman who does not 
wish to go down to posterity as the worst kind of 
detrimental. 

I am not a Communist in the Russian sense of the 
term. And the Communism of primitive Christianity, 
voluntary and unselfish, appears not to be practical 
politics at the moment. I believe that the system 
called Capitalism will have to give place some day to 
a collectivist internationalism which shall secure life 
and the fruits of the earth to its populations in propor- 
tion to their needs. I believe this change will come 
about slowly as the intelligence of the peoples develops, 
as they become acquainted with facts and see demon- 
strated before their eyes the insufficiency, insecurity and 
injustice of a system based upon production for profit 
rather than for use. Such things as are fundamental to 
life itself — land, minerals and means of communication — 
should not be at the disposal and under the control of a 
small number of private persons any more than the army, 

MS 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the navy and the arsenals. It is too unsafe. For the 
rest : Those things of which there is an abundant 
supply might not unreasonably be held privately ; pro- 
vided that nobody who desires them goes without, 
and nobody's private ownership inflicts injury on the 
community at large. 

But the Russian Communists favour the complete 
abolition of private property down to the books one reads 
and the clothes one wears. This programme they have 
carried out by methods of wholesale and swift confisca- 
tion without the slightest consideration for the unfor- 
tunate owners, creating new injustices in order to remove 
the old, and provoking thereby the inevitable reaction. 
This is of the essence of the revolutionary method. It is 
not happy for Russia. It would be just as unhappy for 
England or America. 

The Bolshevik Government is now in the fourth year 
of its existence. This fact is adduced by its admirers 
in this country as a mark of super-excellence. Truly 
at a time when European Governments are changed with 
the regularity and rapidity of moving pictures at a theatre 
some credit is due to a Government which can survive 
the shocks of war and revolution through nearly four 
years of Europe's stormiest history. 

But the long life of the present Russian Government is 
due to three or four primary causes. It is due to Allied 
support of counter-revolutionary movements, which drew 
every section of the Russian population together for 
common defence against the foreign intruder. It is due 
to the fact that no alternative government has presented 
itself with a programme which would give more food and 
furniture, clothes and medicines to the people of Russia. 
It is due to the fear of the Extraordinary Commission 
with its agents and spies and prisons and executioners. 
But above all it is due — and particularly in these latter 
days since the fear of foreign invasion has departed — to 
the acceptance by Lenin and his friends of moderate 
counsels, and the gradually achieved ascendancy in the 

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More About Russia 

government of the nation of the more moderate men 
amongst the Bolsheviks. 

It is, and always has been, a mistake to assume 
that all the Bolshevik leaders are equally extreme. It 
was not true when we visited Russia in May, 1920. It 
is much less true to-day. During the period of civil wars 
and Allied invasions the extreme element was dominant. 
Now the moderates rule. Lenin has never wavered from 
his fixed idea of world-communism and world-revolution ; 
but he has proved his greatness to his friends and has 
confounded his enemies by yielding to the necessity for 
compromise, making deals with the alien capitalist 
governments and with the native individualist peasants 
alike. 

Turning to my other pages on Russia for the estimate 
I there recorded of the keen-brained, merry-eyed fanatic 
of the Kremlin (for the wisdom and statesmanship of 
twelve months later have astonished me as much as 
they have surprised most people), I discovered the 
following sentences : 

" He (Lenin) impressed me with his fanaticism. This is 
surely the source of his driving power. And yet I am told that 
compared with the really fanatical Communist Lenin is mildness 
itself, and should be classed with the ' Right.' It was rumoured 
that he is engaged on a new book to be given the name ' The 
Infant Diseases of Communism,' or some such title, which suggests 
an honest confession of mistakes made in the early days of the 
commune. If this be true there is hope of happiness for Russia 
yet. But I must confess his firm belief in the necessity of vio- 
lence for the establishment throughout the world of his ideals 
makes one doubt miserably." 

I no longer doubt Lenin's capacity. More than that 
I am inclined to believe that history will accord to him 
one of her foremost places when the tale of these times 
comes to be told, in spite of the terrible blunders and 
awful crimes for which he will, in part, be held responsible. 
It takes either^a true lover of his country or one who 
having tasted power knows how to keep it, to confess his 

i45 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

mistakes in the ear of a listening world apt to say " I 
told you so." If Lenin loves power and means to keep it, 
I, who differ from him in aim and loathe with a deadly 
loathing his past methods, declare my conviction that it 
is for no selfish end that he seeks to preserve his hold 
upon the Russian nation, but for the good of his cause 
and for the ultimate realization of his dreams that he 
has risked unpopularity with his extreme supporters, 
and has met half-way the capitalists at home and abroad. 
The following sentences extracted from his speech to 
the Annual Congress of the Russian Communist Party 
held on March 7, 1921, promise a bright era for Russia 
yet : 

" As far back as April, 1918, it was thought that the civil 
war was concluded. In March, 1920, the Soviet Government 
supposed that a period of peace was beginning, but already in 
the following month the Polish attack was launched. This 
experience teaches us that we should not cherish undue optimism, 
although at the present time there is not a single enemy soldier 
on Russian territory. Our internal affairs are concerned mainly 
with problems of demobilization, food supplies and fuel. We 
have made mistakes in the distribution of the food supplies, 
although these supplies were much greater than in previous 
years. Difficulties with fuel were due to the fact that we began 
to renew our industries at too rapid a rate. We over-estimated 
our powers in the transition from war-time to peace-time manage- 
ment. Agriculture is passing through a period of crisis, not 
only in consequence of the imperial and civil war, but also 
because the new State mechanism is building up its methods 
of work only by a gradual process, and for that reason it still 
makes mistakes from time to time. The most important political 
problem of the present period is the relation between the peasants 
and the industrial population which in Russia preponderates 
to a considerable degree. The international situation is marked 
by an unusually slow development of the revolutionary movement 
throughout the world, and in no case do we look for its speedy 
victory. The Soviet Government is therefore considering the 
question of the necessity for an agreement with the bourgeois 
Governments, which would result in the granting of concessions 
to foreign capitalists in Russia. The agricultural population, 
which supposes that the Gzarist generals are no longer a 
menace to it and that it is receiving too small a share of 

146 



More About Russia 

industrial products, considers that the sacrifices demanded of 
it are too great. We must show consideration for the efforts 
of the agricultural workers. We are introducing a natural food 
tax which will be distributed in proportion to the resources of 
the peasantry, and will give a free scope of activity to their 
material interests. This tax will absorb only a portion of the 
agricultural worker's produce. What he has left he will be 
able to sell by means of local markets and trade. And just as 
the concessions are to provide us with the means of production 
for our industries, so, too, by showing consideration for the wishes 
of the agricultural worker, we are at the same time mitigating 
the agricultural crisis and improving at the same time the relation- 
ship between the working classes in the cities and the peasantry. 
The question of the natural food tax is the most important 
problem of the Soviet policy. The accomplishment of this task 
is beset with serious obstacles, and demands the closest concen- 
tration of the Party, as well as a clear understanding of the 
difficulties delaying the dictatorship of the proletarist in a petty 
bourgeois state." 

Thus passes at a stroke the communal ownership of the 
fruits of the land as well as of the land itself ! Thus 
return the bourgeois institution of private trading and 
the ancient exploitation of the concessionaire ! It was 
inevitable, and the wise man bowed to the necessity. 
Lenin's line is the one upon which I hoped and believed 
that Russia's future might develop, the line which, but 
for the fanaticism of a comparative few, once including 
Lenin, might have been taken very much earlier with 
advantage to Russia and the rest of Europe 

But whether this line of slower and more peaceful 
development will be permitted to Russia remains to be 
seen. I sincerely hope it may. There are discontented 
democrats, however, rightly insisting on the speedy 
restoration of democratic political methods. They want 
the Zemstvo restored and the National Constituent 
Assembly. They want simple and equal adult suffrage, 
as much for the peasants as for the townsfolk. They 
want vote by ballot. They want freedom of thought, 
of speech and of the press. They want restrictions on 
labour removed and freedom of contract restored. They 
want free trade. Will these good things be given back 

147 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

to the Russians at an early date ? I am very hopeful. 
A good beginning has just been made. 

If Lenin has restored to himself and his Government 
by his drastic reform of the levy on the peasants, those 
vast millions of Russian folk, he can, if he chooses, 
continue his regime for an indefinite time. With such 
modifications in the system as I have just named this 
would be the best way out of Russia's present distressing 
state, for, should counter-revolution arise and spread, 
a new chaos would almost certainly follow, opening 
up dreadful possibilities for the population ; and for 
the watchful and greedy adventurers, out to carve 
a kingdom for themselves from Russia's enormous ter- 
ritories, or thirsty to exploit her unimaginable resources 
of precious metals and rich forests in their own selfish 
interests, would present the opportunities they are 
palpitating to use. 

But there is yet another element threatening the 
future happiness of Russia — her own Napoleons, and the 
flushed and triumphant militarism which supports them. 
Trotsky has the reputation of an extremist. There is 
said to be a coldness between Lenin and himself. It is 
commonly believed that he will not readily disband the 
army that he has created and employed with such signal 
success. Not only that, but he believes with many others 
that Bolshevism can only survive if a strong, active 
and triumphant army supports it. He believes that the 
conquest of the East for Bolshevism will not only keep 
the soldiers busy and add to the glory of Russian arms, 
but will menace the proud empires which have caused so 
much unnecessary suffering to his people, and which are 
still opposing the interests of Russia, though in less 
apparent fashion. It is openly said in Moscow that 
Trotsky himself is the coming Napoleon. 

The Russo-Polish peace signed at Riga on March 18, 
1921, and ratified by Poland on April 16 points rather 
in the other direction ; unless, as is suggested, it was 
signed through fear of defeat or in order to clear the 

148 



More About Russia 

way for a concentration of warlike operations in the 
Caucasus and the Near East. The fear of defeat it is 
impossible to believe in. Russia is too big to be defeated. 

The recent news from the Caucasus, however, supplies 
conclusive evidence, as far as it goes, of a distinctively 
imperialist policy, which recks as little of the right of 
self-determination as the policies of capitalist govern- 
ments. A treaty with Kemal Pasha and joint action 
between the Turkish Nationalists and the Bolsheviks 
against Armenia (that pitiful victim of Allied policy), and 
Georgia, promised self-government and independence 
by Moscow only a few months previously ; the domina- 
tion of Azerbaijan from Moscow for the security to Russia 
of the oil supplies of Baku ; the intrusion of Soviet 
politics into Persia with its intended threat to British 
interests in India ; Bolshevik propaganda marching 
with the armies or bulging from the portfolios of the 
political and diplomatic agents of Russia — these things 
and others, have an alarming appearance of old-fashioned 
militarist Imperialism very disturbing to those who wish 
well to Russia, and who long desperately that she shall 
not copy too closely the aims and methods of the dis- 
credited diplomacy of the Western Powers, even though it 
be on behalf of the whole nation and not of a single class 
that the methods of conquest and spoliation be employed. 

The alliance between Kemal Pasha and the Bolsheviks 
can have no other meaning than a common design to 
embarrass the Entente's plans in the Near East, and to 
menace British and French capitalist interests in India, 
Mesopotamia and Angora. Kemal Pasha is no more a 
Bolshevik than the man in the moon. The cynical Radek 
is clearly aware of all this. He wrote in the Moscow 
Pravda of January 26, 1921, examining the possibility of 
the revision of the Treaty of Sevres and the consequent 
desertion of themselves by Kemal and his army : 

" Which way Kemal Pasha will choose we certainly cannot 
say ; but we have never been so simple as to throw ourselves 
unreservedly in the embraces of the Nationalists of the East. 
K 149 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

It is an absolute necessity for us to be on guard, and not only to 
be awake but to act also. The stronger we are on the Caucasus 
the more solid our position in Turkestan, the more real our 
assistance, the more certain shall we be to hasten the develop- 
ment of the East in the direction and in the interests of world 
revolution." 

He rejoices in the same article on the complete Bol- 
shevization of Georgia, the recalcitrant, whilst his col- 
league, Steklov, in Isvestia of January 30, 1921, wrote 
with equal cynicism of removing " the black point " 
(Georgia) from the Caucasus, and so making easy joint 
action between the Kemalists and themselves against the 
armies serving the interests of the Entente. Thus, in 
spite of solemn pledges, promises of protection, League of 
Nations covenants and the rest, the wretched Armenians 
are tossed into the laps of new tyrants, the close 
associates of the old, whose unspeakable cruelties 
towards their hapless dependents have scandalized man- 
kind for generations ; whilst the unhappy Georgians 
have had to stop their constructive work for social demo- 
cracy to defend themselves almost with bare fists against 
the faithless Russian hordes whose leaders had guaranteed 
their independence. Of this I shall write elsewhere. 



Writing these words in the warmth of a bright April 
sun, within sight of trees weighed down with vast masses 
of snowy blossom, the pink and white of the cherry and 
the apple, a soft wind from the valley blowing gently in 
at the tiny casement window, the mind turns to the 
quite other scenes of exactly a year ago. In the imagina- 
tion are pictured the endless plains of Russia with the 
patient peasant walking at midnight behind his span of 
oxen and his wooden plough ; the brown, muddy waters 
of the rolling Volga with its picturesque rafts carrying 
whole villages ; the red-robed Kalmuk priest in the cold 
moonlight ; the glittering domes of Moscow's thou- 
sand churches ; the dull, pale-faced hungry crowds of 

'5° 



More About Russia 

Petrograd ; the happy children, utterly fearless, on the 
great estates of vanished proprietors ; the lazy routine of 
numberless offices ; the careworn and incompetent high 
officials, with their indolent staffs and littered desks and 
stuffy buildings ; the talkative Commissars ; the strife, 
the passion, the idealism of it all. 

In Moscow sits Tchicherine, master of the foreign 
policy of a country the size of Europe. Who would have 
expected Tchicherine to achieve such an exalted position 
in so short a time who had seen this delicate man fidget- 
ing on the edge of his chair in the office of the National 
Council for Civil Liberties, seeking the help for Russian 
prisoners in England of the Council's Executive Com- 
mittee ? His thin, artistic fingers tapped the table 
nervously as he spoke in a high-pitched rather strained 
voice. His manner was shrinking. He lacked the usual 
voluble earnestness of the Socialist exile. He suggested 
the gentle and refined artist, the man of taste and leisure. 
He was full of a timid courtesy. His diffidence was a 
temptation to the coarse and undiscerning to be rough 
and contemptuous of the suppliant. 

When we saw him in Moscow he looked as though all 
the woes of the world had been laid by force upon his 
frail and inadequate shoulders. His clothes appeared to 
be many sizes too big for him. He looked over his collar 
like a frightened owl over a hedge fence. Soft and slow 
of speech, but of quick intelligence and with the clearest 
outlook, his true friend would none the less wish him a 
happier fate than to be Minister of State in a country 
so full of tangled problems as Russia in these dreadful 
days. Making beautiful music to a company of con- 
genial souls, the samovar steaming merrily and the song 
going gaily behind warm, close curtains, in the light of 
a bright fire, till the dawn on the horizon told of the 
coming day, is the proper life for this gentle Minister, 
whom to know is to like. Perhaps such a dream- 
picture comes to him in the small hours of many a 
weary morning to cheer him to renewed efforts in 

151 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the cause which alone, he believes, can make his dreams 
come true. 

" You will never go to Russia again, of course," said 
a friend. " They would never let you come out alive." 
But I shall go to Russia again some day. I shall go be- 
cause Russia is the kind of country which, having once 
won you, claims your interest and affection for all time. 
You cannot escape the love of her. She draws in a fatal 
way all who have come under her magic spell. 

Russia is crammed full of mystery. Nobody can 
define her. Her people are lovable, beautiful, idealistic, 
spiritual ; but coarse and cruel too. They are a race 
of artists with gifts of this sort for mankind that have 
not yet been dreamt of. Russia is not Bolshevism. 
This hard, cruel phase will pass, is already passing. 
What the next chapter in Russian history will be who 
can tell ? What Russia's contribution will be to the 
world's political problems who will dare to prophesy ? 

A generation is growing up in Russia which has seen 
fearful things and done dreadful deeds. Its children 
have grown weary, toying with corpses. But in spite 
of that I am sure that Russia will justify the brightest 
hopes of her. That her gift to mankind will be a great 
contribution both materially and spiritually I am con- 
vinced. At present the land of mystery calls for our 
aid and co-operation. She will give to us more than we 
can give to her. But for many years to come she will 
be clothed in mystery for most, until the material blends 
with the spiritual and the oneness of life becomes known 
to all the nations of the earth. 

I must tell a true story of Moscow. Hauntingly, 
like a strange, sad dream, comes the remembrance of 
that nightly experience in the big city. Every morn, 
at the same hour, the hour when the last rays of twilight 
give instant place to the first beams of morning light, 
the hour of two, a woman's clear voice rang out in a 
mournful strain, sometimes piercingly shrill, sometimes 
pathetic ; sometimes a tender moan, sometimes a scream 

152 



More About Russia 

of agony ; never joyous, ever tormented. The singing 
seemed to come from the building opposite the hotel 
where we were lodged, a building which looked like a 
factory. The song was always the same. 



Larghissirno e con angore. 




The key was changed for every|repetition^of the 
wailing song. Sometimes a line was omitted. Some- 
times only three or four notes of a line were sung. A 
pause of the proper length was made whenever notes 
were left out of a line, or for the whole line when this 
was not sung, and the tune resumed at the end of the 
pause, thus : 



Larghissirno e con angore. 




The effect was weird and torturing. Whom could 
it be ? What could it mean ? Was some sick creature 
housed opposite ? Was some poor woman kept a prisoner 
by force ? Was it a piece of religious ritual ? Was 
somebody mad ? 

I spoke to one or two of my colleagues about it. 
They slept soundly and heard nothing. I inquired of 
the Bolshevik servants. They knew nothing about it. 
A Bolshevik secretary had the room next to mine. 
Often he typed all night. Sometimes he paced the room 
till the day dawned. He could scarcely fail to hear 
the voice. But he could not help me. 

Perhaps some Russian reading this book will write 

i53 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

and tell me the meaning of that torturing cry, of that 
singing ghost which is one of my liveliest memories. 
She shall be, till then, the symbol of all Russia, tragic, 
seductive, mysterious ; the bride of the East calling to 
the bridegroom of the West to come and set her free 
for the marriage which is to be fruitful for the happiness 
of mankind. 



i54 



CHAPTER X 

FROM RUSSIA BY SWEDEN AND GERMANY 

On our way from Saratov on the Volga, to Reval, the 
interesting old capital of Esthonia, my colleagues and 
I discussed the possibility of returning to London via 
Berlin. Dr. Haden Guest and I were especially interested 
in the condition of child-life in the German cities, he from 
the point of view of a humane medical man, I as a member 
of the Executive Committee of the Save the Children 
Fund, charged with the administration of large sums of 
money for the relief of the suffering children of Europe. 
A view of the problem at close quarters would be valuable 
to our various committees, and useful to ourselves as 
propagandists. 

Reval is a quaint old city, with odd winding streets 
and cobbled roads. Its harbour is very fine ; but at 
the time of our visit in June, 1920, it snowed very few 
signs of an awakening commerce. The position of the 
Border Republics was very uncertain, both politically 
and militarily, and the social condition of the people was 
lamentable. The fear and hatred of Bolshevism was upon 
them. The minefields of the Baltic had not been cleared 
up, which added difficulties to the trade with Sweden, 
prolonging the voyages and reducing the number of 
sailings owing to the necessity of careful and roundabout 
navigation. Finland was too poor to attempt to sweep 
them ; and perhaps a little reluctant through fear of 
Russia, her powerful neighbour. The Allies were indif- 
ferent, and still giving aid and comfort to counter-revo- 
lutionaries of all sorts. Anything which added to the 
miseries of Russia they were slow to destroy ; but 
Russia's near neighbours suffered also. 

i55 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Poverty and hunger abounded in Esthonia. The shops 
were almost empty of goods. The value of money was 
incredibly low. Enough roubles to paper a room could 
be bought for an English pound. The British Military 
Mission was obliged to have a large part of its necessary 
stores sent from home or from Denmark on account of 
the scarcity ; which added to the cost of the mess and 
made the hospitality so freely and graciously offered a 
gift of more than ordinary value. 

What extraordinarily good fellows were those British 
officers in Reval ! It would be invidious to mention 
names ; but it was perfectly clear why they were so 
universally popular. A well known and genuine interest 
in the people they had come to help was the foundation 
of it. 

Mr. Leslie, the able and courteous young British Consul, 
facilitated our departure from Reval to the best of his 
ability, and we cast off from all Russian or related con- 
tacts on the third day after our arrival in the city. Our 
destination was Stockholm, where we hoped to get the 
necessary visa for Germany. 

No words can adequately describe the voyage through 
those lovely Finnish islands. The nearest approach to 
it is the trip through the Canadian Lake of the Woods 
or the Greek Archipelago. The little islands stood out 
like emeralds against the clear horizon line of glowing 
pink, yellowing into the deep blue of the night sky, with 
its crescent moon and evening star. The ice-blue waters 
were as placid as a lake, and no sound but the swish of 
the ship's propeller disturbed the heavenly stillness that 
held us through the greater part of the night. Wealthy 
Americans who rush to Europe to see beauties which 
abound in their own country might do a service to 
mankind by popularizing this tour. 

We were compelled to submit to medical examina- 
tion both in Reval and Stockholm, but this being satis- 
factory, we proceeded to our hotel. The trip to Russia 
obliged us to spend two weeks in Stockholm, one week 

156 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

each way, because of the infrequency of boats to Russia ; 
which gave us the opportunity of making some interesting 
acquaintances, and seeing with some degree of thorough- 
ness the most beautiful city of Northern Europe, well 
wooded and spotlessly clean, and threaded through and 
through with canals and waterways — a veritable " Venice 
of the North." 

Amongst these new acquaintances was a lady I first 
met in Geneva at the conference of the Save the Children 
Fund. The Countess Wilamowitz-Moellendorf is a lovely 
woman of about thirty-two years of age, tall and graceful 
as a lily, with a lily's whiteness in her skin, and a lily's 
pale gold in her hair. She has a soft voice and a gentle 
blue eye, which occasionally sparkles with pure mischief. 
She possesses the elegance and simplicity of manner of 
the ancien regime, to which she belongs, and has the gift 
of humour, suggestive of the Irish strain that is actually 
hers. Her distinguished husband died during the war at 
Bagdad and lies buried there. She has an only child, 
a graceful girl of sixteen growing up into the likeness of 
her beautiful mother. 

This charming woman and devoted mother, Swede by 
birth and German by marriage, is giving herself without 
stint to the work of saving the starving babies of Europe. 
She also has ideas on Labour and International questions 
which would raise the ghosts of many of her departed 
friends did they but know these. She attended with me 
a meeting at the Volkshaus in Stockholm to hear an 
address by a Labour speaker, and I saw with what 
regard she is held by the Radical forces of the city. - 

One day she came to the British Labour delegation 
to ask their interest in a matter of relief. The Swedish 
Red Cross, hearing of the epidemics in Russia, and par- 
ticularly in Petrograd, organized a relief expedition 
comprising sanitary engineers, plumbers, doctors and 
nurses to the number of almost a hundred, with supplies 
of medicines, soaps, disinfectants, and all the equipment 
of a sanitary and medical expedition. Prince Charles, 

!57 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

President of the Red Cross, was extremely anxious that 
the Mission should set out. He had written twice to 
the Russian Foreign Office offering his gift ; but, although 
weeks had passed, there was no reply. Would it be pos- 
sible for us to see Tchicherine and get something definite 
from him, either an acceptance or a rejection, so that 
in the event of the latter the Mission might proceed 
elsewhere ? 

Some of us saw Prince Charles and heard the story 
from his own lips. His sincerity was impressive. We 
promised to do what we could. This grave Swedish 
prince is a man of distinguished appearance, with a manner 
of great reserve. He is tall, grey haired and blue eyed, 
with strong, fine hands. His royal reserve melted for 
a moment and his blue eyes softened with appreciation 
when I ventured softly to commiserate him on the death 
of Sweden's popular Crown Princess, who had died the 
preceding day. We left his presence reinforced in the 
belief that humane feeling and practical social service are 
the disposition and occupation of no particular class. 
They are the characteristics of the generous and refined 
of all classes. We told the story to Tchicherine when we 
saw him ; but I very much doubt if the royal gift were 
accepted. The Russians trust only the Society of Friends. 
All other relief organizations do propaganda against the 
Soviet Government, they allege. 

One of the most interesting personalities I met in 
Stockholm was the great traveller and scientist, the friend 
of kings and kaisers, the distinguished supporter of 
Germany, Sven Hedin. I lunched at his house in com- 
pany with some of my fellow delegates. It is a lovely 
home, especially his own room. This room is lined with 
exquisitely bound books and filled with curios of priceless 
value collected during many marvellous journeyings. 
Signed photographs of numerous monarchs stand in the 
recesses and on tables. Rich Oriental carpets cover the 
floor, and precious hangings of rarest quality add colour 
and character to the room. 

158 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

He is a remarkably handsome man, with a mass of 
raven hair slightly tinged with grey, brushed but rebel- 
lious ; and brilliant eyes, flashing thought. He has a 
happy manner, full of little gallantries. He possesses 
the great and saving gift of humour, can be gaily ironical 
and ironically severe. He is unmarried ; but is tenderly 
devoted to his adoring family of aged mother and gifted 
sisters. He has an astounding capacity for work, sleeps 
a little in the afternoon and then works till 4 o'clock 
every morning. We had great argument with him, 
which changed neither his opinion nor our own. But 
there was no crudity of speech or manner on either side 
to spoil our reputation in a neutral city, or to lessen 
the quality of his generous hospitality. 

The Countess succeeded in getting permission for 
us to go to Berlin. She introduced us to the 
German Minister to Sweden, and Prince Wied of the 
Legation, who were touched by our interest in the children 
of Berlin. The tax upon aliens entering Germany — at 
this time about 60 marks — was graciously remitted in 
our case as we were going on relief work, and we booked 
our places on train and steamer and began to pack our 
bags. 



The last day in Stockholm was spent most happily 
with Mr. Branting and his gifted wife at their country 
house two hours' distance up the straits. Mr. Branting 
was at this time Prime Minister of Sweden, whose Govern- 
ment was preponderatingly Social Democratic. He and 
his colleagues in the Cabinet had richly entertained the 
British delegates to Russia on their way out. This 
meeting of the great man in his home was of a more 
precious and intimate character. 

The good-natured statesman at home is all that his 
kindly personality promised it would be. Considerate of 
the guest who took no wine he had provided specially for 
her needs. We had lunch in the garden, our table shaded 

i59 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

by trees from the hot sun and placed in view of the quiet 
waters of the channel. Neighbouring houses embedded 
in foliage peeped at us from leafy bowers. There was no 
trace of a wind. Bright sunshine filtering through the 
leaves made a pattern upon the short smooth grass. 
It was an ideal place for a tired politician seeking to escape 
for a while from the sordid squabbles and bitter feuds 
of his profession. 

The first time I saw Mr. Branting was at an Allied 
Socialist Conference in London. His burly form and erect 
grey hair, standing squarely off a broad forehead, as if 
seeking to escape from the brush of a pair of fierce, shaggy 
eyebrows, his large powerful hands and the broad shoul- 
ders of a Viking gave him a command over the assembly 
which a rather weak voice and a slow and deliberate 
speech might otherwise have diminished. He speaks 
several languages well, although one who speaks these 
better, an impish member of the fraternity of the press, 
whispered to me in Berne that " Mr. Branting confuses 
the delegates admirably in seven languages ! " 

On this occasion his wife was dressed in forget-me-not 
blue, which matched her eyes and set off her fair skin to 
perfection. Her light, fluffy hair was softly tucked under 
a large garden hat designed for the sun. She has the 
strong prejudices mingled with the charm of the French- 
woman that I am told she is. Mr. Branting is her second 
husband, and her son has adopted the name of his step- 
father. She is a writer of books with some claim to serious 
attention, but I have the misfortune not to have read 
any of them. She is a delightful hostess, a devoted wife 
and a very charming woman. 

Branting was at this time gravely concerned about 
the effects of the Peace of Versailles and the Allied policy 
towards Russia. His Allied predilections during the 
war entitled his opinions to the gravest consideration, 
and he expressed himself of the opinion that the conduct 
of both France and England towards Germany and Russia 
was conceived in a spirit hostile to true internationalism, 

1 60 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

and was calculated to produce new wars by reviving old 
hates. The claim was being made that Russia should 
pay for the damage due to her withdrawal from the war. 
Russia retorted by demanding payment for damage done 
in Russia by counter-revolutionaries paid by England 
and France. Branting agreed there was logic in the 
retort. Anti-Bolshevik to the last ounce of him, he none 
the less regretted a policy which he believed could only 
have the effect of strengthening the Bolshevik power. 

We bade farewell to our good friends at the water's 
edge and boarded the steamer for Stockholm and the 
night journey towards Berlin. The Countess accompanied 
us, and she and I shared a compartment. The swift 
Swedish express brought us by morning to the Trellborg- 
Sassnitz steamer which conveyed us across waters as 
smooth as a lake to the German side. 



We could only spend four days in Berlin. We had 
therefore carefully to map out a programme so as to 
accomplish as much as possible. There were the courtesy 
calls at the British Embassy and the British Military 
Mission to be made first. At both places the greatest 
interest was manifested in our trip to Russia. We told 
the story to Lord Kilmarnock over a pleasant cup of tea 
at the Embassy, and repeated it to General Malcolm and 
his staff at the Military Mission during lunch. 

But I was extremely anxious, if it could be done in 
the time, to see representative men and women of every 
shade of German politics. The Countess was of the 
greatest possible help in bringing us into touch with one 
section. The German Foreign Office was equally obliging. 
British newspaper men gave a hand, with the result that 
we actually accomplished our desire in this respect, and 
left Berlin having seen the spokesmen of every party in 
the Reichstag. We found time to visit the Reichstag in 
session, and had the experience of hearing the speech of 
Herr Fehrenbach and seeing the dignified temper of 

161 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the Assembly under circumstances of extreme trial and 
provocation. 

The Allied representatives in Berlin were seriously 
concerned at the time with Germany's alleged defaulting 
in the matter of disarmament. Our generous Britons, 
with not an ounce of ignorant hate in them, were not 
quite sure that Germany was not playing a game of 
gigantic bluff. It was impossible for me to believe that, 
after talking with many cultivated and sincere Germans. 
Fear of Communists on the part of the middle classes as 
strong as the fear in France of Germany ; fear of the 
Junkers and the middle classes on the part of the 
Communists (of whom it was alleged there are 500,000 
in Germany), was responsible for the charges of con- 
cealed guns and hidden rifles freely made by both 
sides. The Communists had thousands of rifles hidden 
in the woods, it was wildly said. The Junkers had 
quantities of ammunition and machine-guns secretly 
stored for future use against the common people was the 
counter-charge. It was this fear that put the Englishman 
Phillips Price on the side of the Allies in their demand 
for Germany's complete disarmament. This interesting 
character has given up his wealth in England, embraced 
political Communism and married a German workgirl. 
When I saw him he looked very happy, rejoicing in the 
birth of a child to him. He, as guileless as many another, 
believed that France would disarm when the Germans 
were made helpless. With a truer estimate of the reali- 
ties Germany refused to be convinced. Hence the pas- 
sionate plea from her political leaders for more considera- 
tion of her difficulties, which had been interpreted by the 
Allies as a crafty attempt to evade the terms of the 
Treaty. 



Amongst the politicians I saw in Berlin was a little 
group of German Nationalists. The most distinguished 
of them was the uncle of my gentle Swedish friend, a 

162 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

scholar of international reputation whom the great 
Universities of this country delighted to honour before 
the war, Professor Wilamowitz-Moellendorf. He is a 
proud and gentle old man, whose white hair only gives 
the impression of many years, with a grave scholarly 
manner, and an air of great distinction. His reasonable 
and proper regret was that scholarship and culture 
should have steeped itself in the vulgar passions of the 
slum and the gutter during the years of war, forgetting 
their dignity and worth in the disgusting welter of political 
hates. All the time his speech about England was 
courteous and kind, and though his Oxford friends had 
given him just cause for resentment, he kept his happier 
memories of her green. His was not the anger of that 
other scholar, Herr Edouard Meyer, half mad with the 
sense of injustice and wrong. 

This little group of German Nationalists met me in 
the splendid lobby of one of the big Berlin hotels, and in 
a quiet corner we discussed the then political situation 
and the ominous signs of the times. There was the usual 
keen interest in the Russian adventure. Professor 
Wilamowitz-Moellendorf was not present on this occasion. 

The most remarkable personality of the group was 
a tall soldierly man whose stern expression of face and 
grey hair were possible relics of bitter war experiences. 
After a few idle phrases in complimentary vein, he turned 
suddenly upon me and demanded fiercely : " Mrs. 
Snowden, why have you come to Germany ? " 

The sudden question startled me, but I concealed 
my surprise and replied : " Ever since the publication 
of the Peace Treaty I have been trying to come to Ger- 
many to tell the people here that there are men and women 
in England who do not break their pledged word and who 
want a square deal even for their foes. I want to shake 
hands with everybody here who is willing, along with us, 
to help to mend a broken world." 

His reply was startling : " When I came into the room 
just now I shook hands with you and I am still suffering 

163 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

from the surprise of it. I had taken a vow that never 
again would I touch the hand of an English person, man 
or woman. I had believed in your nation. I had thought 
it would honour its pledged word. I was foolish enough 
to think that British statesmen meant what they said, 
and that Wilson's programme was seriously intended. 
I was wrong. I made that vow. And I took your hand 
just now. I was wrong again." 

" I think I understand," I murmured. " In the same 
circumstances I should have felt as you feel." 

" Do you understand, I wonder ? Do you understand 
that for us Germans there is nothing left but black 
despair ? Do you realize that our children are dying of 
hunger ? Do you understand that our young men have 
no careers open to them ? Do you understand the pain 
of being spat upon, the torment of being thrust down 
every time you attempt to rise ? Do you know what it 
is to be robbed of your faith in idealism, your belief in 
goodness, your hope for mankind ? I find it difficult to 
believe that you understand." 

The pain in his voice, the look in his eyes hurt. He 
went on : "If there is any gleam of hope for Germany to 
be found anywhere it lies in religion. No, no," he said 
hastily, noting my glance of inquiry, " I do not mean the 
Churches, although there must be Churches to give form 
and substance to the thing. The Churches must remain, 
but they must be reformed and reformed from within. 
By religion I mean that looking and striving upwards for 
better things without which the world perishes. If my 
unhappy people can lay hold again of that and keep it, 
there may be a little hope for them. For myself there 
is no hope. Everything is gone. My country is utterly 
destroyed. There is nothing left to live for, unless " — 
and here a new and fiercer light came into his tired eyes 
— " unless after all the Communists are pointing the way. 
Russia's untold millions and our officers. It may be so." 

He was quiet for a moment. "I do not like Com- 
munism. I do not want to see Communism in Germany 

164 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

But when our position is so bad that nothing we can do 
will make it worse and something we may do might make 
it better, what would you ? " 

Another and a longer pause, and then came his final 
word : "If our enemies refuse to give us a gleam of hope 
for the future, and if the Communists of Russia have 
shown us the only way to throw off the intolerable 
burden of insult and oppression, / go with them. And 
there are many like me in Germany." 

And I learnt before leaving Berlin that of the many 
like him, General Ludendorff was one. 



From this interesting gathering I betook me to the 
house of the Socialist President of the German Republic, 
President Ebert. I found him seated in a comfortable 
library chair, in a pleasant room overlooking a garden, 
a plain-spoken simple old man, of a natural and pleasing 
dignity. He could speak no English, but there was an 
interpreter present. Also, the Ex-Chancellor M tiller, 
looking much better in health than when I saw him in 
Berne, stood behind the President's chair whilst we talked. 
Once more we related our adventures in Russia and drew 
from the President that the Communists of Germany 
were a troublesome and incalculable element, compli- 
cating the situation woefully for those desirous of keeping 
order till Germany was out of her difficult debate with 
the Allies. 

I could not help comparing President Ebert with the 
two other Socialist Presidents of my acquaintance, Herr 
Seitz of Austria and Herr Eisner of Bavaria. Herr 
Seitz was professional in style, well dressed and bourgeois 
in appearance ; Herr Eisner was Bohemian in appear- 
ance, not very clean in his dress and style. President 
Ebert was suggestive of the typical English Trade Union 
leader, good-tempered and comfortable looking, as good 
as most and not so clever as many, less liable to rouse 
antagonism than a more brilliant person ; more apt to 

L 165 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

steer the ship of a troubled country across a stormy sea 
than a steersman given to taking risks with rocks and 
whirlpools in order to reach the haven a little sooner. 
I must say I liked the homely President of the new 
Germany. 

That same evening we assembled in one of the private 
rooms of the Kaiserhof the leading lights of the Inde- 
pendent Socialists. To our regret Herr Kautsky was 
in Vienna, but there came to drink coffee with us the 
Herren Breitschied, Dittmann, Ochme, Kuenzer and 
Oscar Cohn, an amiable and interested group. We 
wanted them to talk about Germany, but they preferred 
to ask us questions about Russia. Most of them were 
about to leave for Russia on a similar expedition to our 
own. We answered their questions rather wearily, for 
the story had become very stale by this time. These 
men left us with two distinct impressions. The first 
was that the Socialists of Germany are for the most part 
disinterested in the Peace Treaty, and their minds are not 
engrossed to an appreciable extent with such questions 
as the distribution of coal, the assessment of reparations, 
the disarmament of Germany, or the mad designs of 
French Imperialists. They look upon all these things as 
so many inevitable steps in the dissolution of the old 
order. They see representatives and supporters of the old 
order, as if maddened with lust and revenge, doing their 
very best to make sure the passing of their authority, and 
they smile and pursue their various avocations, calm 
amid the storms that stir the breasts of the petty bour- 
geoisie and the impoverished aristocrats. Their only 
apparent political interest lies in the future and how that is 
to be shaped. Shall they follow the leadership of Russia ? 
Or shall they make their own way in their own fashion 
out of the chaos which the world's capitalists and mili- 
tarists have created ? As a matter of fact, the same 
debate is exercising the Socialists of every country, and 
the Second International (Berne) and the Third Inter- 
national (Moscow) are the symbols of the conflict. 

1 66 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

To my regret there were no Socialist women in this little 
party. The rush into Berlin without letting anybody 
know I was coming, and the rush out again at the end 
of a few days, made it difficult to see all those it would have 
been pleasant and useful to see. In the Reichstag build- 
ing I had counted seven women members of Parliament 
seated at their desks, and thought of our hard-working 
and courageous Lady Astor still unsupported by a single 
woman colleague. I believe there are many more than 
seven women in the German Parliament, though exactly 
how many at the moment I cannot say. But they looked 
very normal and thoroughly competent, and mingled with 
their fellows in an accepted comradeship of political 
labour very pleasing to observe. 



I met Herr Dernburg at the Club House of the Demo- 
cratic Party. He assembled a few like-minded people 
to meet us. Most of them spoke excellent English, all 
appeared to understand it. I like Dernburg very much ; 
but for some he has an unfortunate manner which makes 
enemies. His frankness is regarded as mere brutal bad 
manners. It is nothing of the sort, and I like it. It 
makes for clearer understanding than the polite pretences 
of the less courageous. I cannot reproduce in his exact 
words what Herr Dernburg said, but the substance of 
part of his long and able discourse was the cruelty of 
the starvation policy of the Allies and in particular in 
its effect upon the children. " Your people come to 
Germany and report that we are pretending to be poor. 
They see our good clothes, neatly brushed, and our 
generally tidy appearance and they say that Germany is 
better clothed than they are. They do not realize that 
we are reaping now the reward of our habits of thrift. 
The clothes that we are wearing are many years old, taken 
out of wardrobes and altered as best might be to suit the 
fashion of the hour. Women's dresses are frequently 
made out of the dyed linen, bed and table, which every 

167 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

German girl begins to accumulate for her marriage as 
soon as she leaves school or earlier. Many of our children 
wear paper clothes or garments woven of grasses. Always 
are our clothes kept well brushed and used with care. It 
is a feature of the German character, this neatness, 
cleanliness and industry. Look at Berlin. Would you 
think that a city so full of woes could find time and heart 
to be so clean and trim ? And yet, compared with the 
Berlin of pre-war days, she is soiled and stained almost 
beyond knowledge to those who knew and loved her 
well. Our hotels are crowded with rich gourmands 
chiefly from foreign lands ; but go into our little homes, 
the homes of the miners in the Ruhr, the homes of the 
workers in Leipzig, Frankfurt, Nuremberg, Hamburg, 
and see in the wan, pinched faces of the children and their 
mothers what the peace is doing to those whom the war 
did not kill." 

There were those in Berlin who had carefully pre- 
served the speeches of British statesmen during the war. 
One such drew out of his pocket a whole note-book full 
of phrases from the speeches of Mr. Lloyd George and 
Mr. Asquith. " Listen to me," he said, " and I will 
read you what your rulers said, and what the new-born 
Germany believed, to its present sorrow." He fingered 
the loose news-cuttings and selected one from the rest. 
Clearing his throat he began : " Mr. Lloyd George on 
January 5, 1918. ' The destruction or disruption of the 
German people has never been a war aim with us from 
the first day of this war to this day. . . . Our point of 
view is that the adoption of a really democratic Consti- 
tution by Germany would be the most convincing 
evidence that in her the old spirit of military domination 
had indeed died in this war and would make it much easier 
for us to conclude a broad democratic peace with her ! ' 
Mr. Lloyd George on November 12, 1918. ' No settle- 
ment which contravenes the spirit of justice will be a 
permanent one. We must not allow any sense 
of revenge, any spirit of greed, any grasping desire 

168 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

to override the fundamental principles of righteous- 
ness.' Mr. Lloyd George on the same date : ' We shall 
go to the Peace Conference to guarantee that the League of 
Nations is a reality ! ' Mr. Bonar Law, September 24, 
1 914 : ' We have no desire to humiliate the German 
people.' Mr. Lloyd George, September, 12, 1918 : 
1 We must not arm Germany with a real wrong. In 
other words, we shall neither accept nor impose on our 
foe a Brest-Litovsk treaty.' " 

" Enough," I said, " I know all these speeches by 
heart. It has hurt me just as much as you that the Peace- 
makers have departed from their promises ! " 

" No, no," he said sharply, " not so much, not nearly 
so much. It has hurt your pride, but it is killing our 
children. Where is the comparison ? " And he turned 
away in disgust. 



The Hotel Adlon is like the Hotel Belle Vue in Berne 
and the Bristol in Vienna, full of the oddest assemblage 
of human curiosities that the storms of war have tossed 
together. The Countess and I dined there one evening 
after the opera to amuse ourselves with the spectacle. 
Every table was crowded. It was with the greatest diffi- 
culty that we secured places. Eventually, and with the 
aid of a little English silver, we were invited to take seats 
in the corridor leading to the main dining-room. Herr 
Stinnes, the great man of industrial Germany, the coal 
king, iron master, high financier, newspaper proprietor, 
political " boss," millionaire — large-eyed, impressive — 
the most powerful magnate in Central Europe at the 
present moment — sat at the next table to our own. In 
the corner was a famous dancer, impudent and vivacious, 
a dainty profligate. There were the German nouveaux 
riches in unaccustomed corsets and high-heeled shoes, 
hot and miserable under the brilliant lights. A group of 
fresh-looking British officers gave the wholesome touch 
to a hectic scene. Hysterical women, half-dressed, sang 

169 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

snatches of accompaniment to the waltz strains of the 
orchestra. A French officer made undisguised love to 
a fascinating brunette at a near table. Two out of 
three had the brilliant eyes and swarthy skin of the Jew. 
Every language under the sun could be heard. It was 
a veritable Tower of Babel. It suggested nothing so much 
as a company of condemned criminals spending a last 
riotous night before the hanging in the morning. 

A pleasanter meal was eaten at the House of the 
American High Commissioner. America still being at 
war with Germany had no ambassador, but his equivalent, 
Mr. Drexel, was our courteous host on this occasion, and 
at the same table I met my old acquaintance of the 
American Legation in Berne, Mr. Hugh Wilson. Mr. 
Wilson is a delightful young American diplomat of wide 
sympathies and progressive views. I made his acquaint- 
ance through the kind offices of our friend in common, 
Mr. William Bullitt, the courageous young American who 
resigned his position as part of the American Delegation 
to Paris when he discovered that the Peace Treaty 
violated every one of President Wilson's Fourteen Points. 

Mr. Wilson is small and slim, with a winning smile of 
extreme good nature ; but he is very impatient, and 
properly so, with the selfish dogmatists who do not mind 
if the world be destroyed if only they may attempt to 
force everything and everybody within the four corners 
of their particular creed. America's diplomacy is rich 
in talent if it possesses many young men as able as 
Mr. Hugh Wilson and his friend, Mr. Bullitt. 



In one of the children's clinics in Charlottenburg I saw 
the saddest sight since my visit to Vienna, crowds of 
little girls and boys, stripped for the doctor one by one, 
pitiful pale faces, ribs sticking through their bodies, 
hollow chests, neshless arms — doomed to die from pul- 
monary disease, the helpless innocent victims of the war 
and of the peace. The physician received us coldly, and 

170 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

we could see that he felt bitter ; but his manner was correct, 
and he warmed a little as he gradually realized that no im- 
pertinent curiosity but a real desire to understand and help 
had brought us to his clinic. " The next generation of 
Germans will be three parts diseased," he said in a dead 
level voice more terrible than passion. " Is that what 
your people wish ? " I assured him that our people did 
not know what was happening, but that it would be our 
business to tell them. Since that time the British miners 
alone have subscribed more than £12,000 to the fund 
for relief. And it may be the miners, whose standard 
of living is threatened at this time, who will be the first 
great body of workmen to learn, and the first to teach 
the connexion between foreign politics and the daily 
circumstances of their lives. The ruin of the English 
export trade in coal is the direct outcome of that part of 
the Treaty of Versailles which provides that Germany 
shall supply to France coal so much in excess of her 
needs that, not only need she not import coal from this 
country, but she can export it to other countries which 
were formerly our customers. 



With the artistic life of Berlin I was not able in the 
short time I was there to get into close contact. Some 
day it will be my object to do so. The world of politics 
is not the only world, nor the best. The world that 
interprets the world, the world that takes you out of the 
world, the world of art is the best of all worlds. And 
when the passions of living men, tearing and wounding 
the innocent, sicken the soul, the exploits of the dead, 
read by the fireside, or rendered in song and dance and 
drama, offer a refuge for weary body and mind, tired with 
their fruitless protest against cruelty and wrong. 

One interesting artist of Germany I may call my 
friend, Karl Vollmoeller, author of The Miracle pro- 
duced in London at Olympia in 191 1. He is sometimes 
spoken of as the " Voltaire of Wurtemberg " because 

171 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

of his physical likeness to Voltaire. He is small and pale, 
' with fair hair, and thin, rather pinched features. I 
imagine he is very delicate in constitution. He is a 
scholar, a poet, a man of the world, one of the leading 
German neo-romanticists. He spoke to me and another 
of the time when Lord Northcliffe, whom the flighty 
young Radical intellectuals of this country have dubbed 
" Alfred and Omega," ironical of his pretended omni- 
science, boomed The Miracle, turning what threatened 
to be a failure into an overwhelming success. Whimsi- 
cally he spoke also of Charles Cochran, who organized 
the Olympia " Miracle " season of Max Reinhardt, and 
who is now supposed to be the leader of the campaign 
against German plays. 

Vollmoeller told many amusing stories of the rehearsals 
at Olympia, of Egelbert Humperdinck, the composer, 
Maria Carmi, the actress who played the Virgin, Max 
Pallenberg, the greatest comic actor of the German stage, 
Trouhanowa, the dancer, and so on. 

Some time later Vollmoeller' s Turandot was pro- 
duced at the St. James's Theatre and The Venetian 
Night at the Palace. The latter caused considerable 
friction with the Lord Chamberlain. The performances 
were stopped for a day or two. Finally there was a 
compromise, and the performances were resumed. These 
reminiscences of the artist were full of a quaint interest. 
They revealed the utter folly of war and materialism in 
the light of the universality and beauty of art. 

At the end of our four days we left Berlin, travelling 
via Cologne. There was a compulsory break of twelve 
hours there. It gave us an opportunity of seeing the 
city under Allied occupation, and of taking a trip up 
the Rhine. There were no outward and visible signs 
of unhappiness in the people ; but I have long since 
learnt that the broad highway is not the place where 
respectable misery flaunts itself. That hides itself 
behind closed curtains and thrusts its children out of 
sight of the pitying eye of the foreigner. Still, the general 

172 



From Russia by Sweden and Germany 

appearance of the people was better here than in Berlin. 
They had more colour. They were not so thin. The 
middle-class crowds which came on to the steamer at 
Bonn and other towns as we sailed up the beautiful river 
to the cherry country of the Drachenfels were glowing 
with health by comparison with the anaemic Berliners, 
dragging tired feet along the hard and unsympathetic 
pavements. The Rhine is a glory. And the view from 
the top of the Drachenfels exhibited a panorama of soft 
wooded beauty which made the hot air of the city 
cafes a nightmare memory. 



From Cologne to Antwerp, a ten hours' journey 
through land almost literally flowing with milk and honey ! 
Belgium is the richest war country in Europe. Her fields 
were brown with waving corn. Her fruit trees were 
laden with fruit. The restaurant on the train was packed 
with food, ample supplies of rich butter and milk and 
cream ; eggs in abundance. Coming straight from the 
starving cities of Germany and Russia, the abundance 
of Belgium was a relief to the mind. And there are 
generous hearts in Belgium (as in France) which some of 
her politicians belie. 



There is nothing so disgusting about war psychology 
as the willingness with which decent men and women will 
listen to any story which discredits the enemy. Whether 
it be true or not is no concern of theirs. They believe 
it could be true. So it must be true ! 

A rumour was set afloat in the Allied countries that 
Germany was converting the money which was being 
raised in America for relief purposes to political uses 
through the German Embassy in the United States. 
What was the fact ? It was simply that the money 
raised in America was used by the German staff for its 
own expenses, and an equal amount credited to relief 

i73 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

accounts by the Government in Germany in order to 
avoid the risks from torpedo activity of sending the money 
by ship. The rumour was, of course, an attempt to pre- 
vent relief being sent to little German children. But it 
failed ; as it deserved to fail. 



Thank God, there is one thing which unites the great 
masses of men and women of all nations, whether in peace 
or in war ; and that is a tender concern for children. 
When Nature fails there, and children are deliberately 
sacrificed to satisfy the ambitions of men, the end of the 
world will come, even though all the guns be cast into the 
midst of the sea, for the belief in immortality, which is 
implicit in the love of men and women for children, will 
have given place to a calculating materialism in which 
the be-all and end-all is self. And selfishness is of the 
very essence of corruption. 



174 



CHAPTER XI 

CONCERNING THE JEWS 

" I hear you are going to Georgia," said Mr. Macdonald 
to me as we sipped our coffee in the hotel breakfast room 
one morning in Geneva. I had heard nothing about an 
expedition to Georgia and expressed my surprise. " Well, 
I happen to know that arrangements are on foot for a 
delegation from the Second International to visit that 
country and that we shall be amongst those invited to 
go. Will you accept ? " he continued, lighting his pipe 
and rising to go. 

My first impulse was to say no. I had been home 
from Russia barely four months. Anything remotely 
connected with the Russia I had seen had not the faintest 
attraction for me, and the Caucasus was only recently 
a part of the great Russian Empire, and enjoyed an inde- 
pendence of doubtful quality and stability. Apart from 
all that, the journey was frightening, not because of its 
dangers, which were real but not known, but because of 
its fatigues, which were numerous and foreseen. 

When Tseretelli, the handsome and distinguished 
Georgian who represents his country in Paris so ably, and 
whose revolutionary career during the old regime in Russia 
included several years of solitary confinement, approached 
me with a cordial invitation to visit his country, instead 
of refusing I took a day on the hills on the French side 
of Geneva to think about it and promised a definite 
answer on the following day. 

A Polish fellow-delegate, K. Czapsritski, came with 
me, and I told him of the scheme. He neither spoke nor 
understood English, and my German was negligible ; 

175 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

but we contrived to understand each other in a curious 
mixture of French and German. When I spoke of the 
Georgian enterprise he waxed suddenly warm and 
eloquent. 

" Why don't you come to Poland, comrade ? You go 
everywhere — to Petrograd, Moscow, Berlin, Vienna, Paris, 
Geneva, but never to Warsaw or Cracow. Why not ? 
We need you in Poland more than they need you in 
Tiflis. Surely Poland has as good a claim as Georgia ? " 
I had praised the hills by which we were surrounded. 
" We have beautiful mountains in Poland, far more 
beautiful than these," he said, waving his arm in the direc- 
tion of the Alps, shimmering in the mists of a summer 
morning. " Our mountains are wild and solemn. And 
very, very beautiful " — his voice grew tender. " Come 
to Poland and read Heine in the Polish hills." I had 
brought a copy of Heine's shorter poems with me, and 
we had read them together at a wayside inn where we 
called for coffee. I shall remember that little inn for 
another reason, not so happy. The last time I saw my 
friend Mary MacArthur in the flesh was when she flashed 
past that tiny inn in her automobile, on her way to Italy 
in a restless search for health, never found. 

" But the Labour Party has already sent a delegation 
to Poland along with other Socialist nationals, Mr. Tom 

Shaw, M.P. " 

" Yes, yes," he interrupted, " it is true. But we want 
more to come. We want a woman to come. We should 
like you to come. Our condition is very bad. We need 
help and we need understanding. We think the world 
does not like us very much." 

" But why do you say that ? Some of us are inclined 
to think that Poland is the spoilt darling of the Entente. 
Surely France, at least, likes you very much ! " I said, 
with a quizzical look at his dark, rather heavy good- 
natured Jewish face. He appeared to be a well-educated 
specimen of his race with the broad forehead and developed 
cranium of so many intellectual Jews. He was certainly 

176 



Concerning the Jews 

very widely read in Polish, French and German 
literature. 

" But perhaps you fear the Bolsheviks ? " I ventured, 
inquiringly. " I gather from the newspapers that 
Trotsky's generals are massing their troops for a triumphal 
entry into Warsaw." 

" Trotsky will never enter Warsaw," said my colleague 
confidently. " I do not believe we have anything to fear 
from the Bolsheviks. There are very few of them in 
Poland, practically none amongst the peasants ; and the 
Socialists of the towns are very largely Social Democrats." 

" But your fellow-countrymen in this city, to whom I 
spoke last night, do not think with you on this matter — 
and I mentioned the names of a group of Polish exiles 
in Geneva whose chief preoccupation of mind was the 
almost certainty that Poland was about to be overrun by 
the armies of Russia. " They are very nervous and anxious. 
They imagine that British Labour has more power than 
it really has, and are trying to get permission from the 
French Government to travel by Paris to London in order 
to interest the British working-class leaders in their side 
of the story. And they are quite right," I added, " for 
Labour will one day be all-powerful in England, and at the 
present moment the British Labour Movement is con- 
vinced, rightly or wrongly, that the heavier share of the 
blame for this fighting belongs to the Poles. They believe 
the Poles began it by attacking the Russians." 

I made this statement to M. Gavronsky of the Polish 
Legation in Switzerland, and he promptly retorted that 
it was not true. 

" But it is not enough that I go home and say to 
British Labour that it is not true the Poles began it. I 
must have positive proof of this if I am to do you any 
good." 

" Well, I can give it to you," said M. Gavronsky. 
" But I should like to go to London myself and give it 
to the Labour leaders personally. It is, of course, very 
difficult to apportion the blame in any conflict, to say 

177 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

who began it and when it began. The raids upon the 
homes of the Polish peasants by the ravenous Russian 
troops, who stole all the food and clothing they could 
lay their hands on, burnt the farms where there was any 
show of resistance, and ill treated the women were the 
beginning of the trouble. Very properly the peasants 
hit back when they could. If your people call this resist- 
ance to Bolshevik violence beginning the war, there is 
nothing more to be said. But I don't. I admire them 
for it. What do you suppose Englishmen would have 
done in the same place ? The same thing, of course. I 
have lived in England. I know them. But" — and here 
he sprang to his feet and began pacing up and down the 
room, his handsome face distorted with rage — " the most 
awful thing these damned Bolsheviks have done is the 
ill treatment of our prisoners. The brutes have sent 
Polish officers back to their camps mutilated in the most 
horrible fashion. That we shall never forget nor forgive." 

To what extent these charges and counter-charges 
of horrible atrocities are true I am not able to say. They 
are made by every army in Europe against its enemies. 
I ' can speak with definiteness only of those things I 
have seen, and with confidence only of what I have 
heard from those witnesses whose calm and dispassionate 
judgment and power to sift and weigh evidence I know ; 
whose cool blood gives their testimony a certain value. 
But there was no doubt whatever in the mind of this 
ardent young Polish patriot and supporter of Pilsudski 
that the most awful outrages had been perpetrated upon 
Polish soldiers helpless in the hands of their enemies. 

M. Gavronsky is related to the great Polish family, the 
Radziwills. Despite his aristocratic birth and con- 
nexions he is, I am convinced, a man of genuinely demo- 
cratic sympathies. He is very English in appearance, 
tall and fair and fresh-complexioned. He speaks English 
better than most Englishmen. He joins to a delightful 
boyishness and engaging frankness the elegant manners 
of a finished specimen of our race. At his request and 

178 



Concerning the Jews 

that of his friends, I introduced him to Mr. Sidney Webb 
and Mr. J. R. Macdonald, and left him to make upon 
these two such impression as he could. 

Soon after this the situation on the Russo-Polish front 
completely changed, to the astonishment of the whole 
world. Warsaw forgot its follies and rose like one man 
to resist the invaders. The failure of supplies and the 
breakdown of discipline caused the Russian armies to be 
driven back. Warsaw broke into a mad riot of joy. 
The restraining influence of the Allies, whose experience 
of Russia had developed a certain wisdom in them, saved 
the jubilant Poles from the stupid blunder of a vindictive 
pursuit. Some sort of a peace treaty has been patched up 
between them ; but like every other peace treaty made 
during the last two and a half years it is scarcely likely to 
prove worth the paper it is written upon. 

I asked my companion of the hills to tell me more 
about Poland. " The trouble with you Poles is that you 
will not stop fighting. You are everywhere looked upon 
as the enfant terrible of Europe. Your ridiculously dis- 
proportionate army of 600,000 men not only keeps your 
naturally rich country poor, but is a disturbing factor 
to the whole of Europe. Of course," I said hastily, not 
wishing to hurt, " I know quite well that, as a Social 
Democrat, you are personally hostile to all militarist 
enterprises. I say what I have said because I am really 
sorry for the unpopularity which Poland will bring upon 
herself when it is discovered whose restlessness it is 
which is preventing Europe from settling down. You 
are helping the opinion to grow that the small nation 
is a big nuisance whatever may be said of the theory 
of self-determination." He grinned understandingly, 
and continued his interesting talk. 

Poland's lot during these years of war has been a 
particularly sad one. Her plight has at times been ter- 
rible. Her fields have been trampled by three armies : the 
Russian Imperial, the Russian Bolshevik and the German. 
Whole villages have been razed to the ground. People 

179 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

have died by the roadside in tens of thousands, of hunger, 
cold and fever. Flights of refugees and cruel evacuations 
have cost the country untold lives. I was told by a 
British General, concerned himself with the evacuation 
of one Polish city, a frightful story which he knew to be 
true, and one of many equally horrible and equally true. 

The weather was intensely cold with the unimaginable 
cold of Poland in winter. Food was difficult to get and 
clothing almost impossible. The evacuation was con- 
ducted on foot, in open carts without springs or in slow 
railway trains without any heat. A young mother and 
father with three small children were amongst the travel- 
lers in one of these trains. The cold snow and bitter wind 
blew in through the broken windows. The children 
sobbed with cold and hunger. As the train crawled 
miserably on the sobs became pitiful moans for water. 
Soon the moans of two of them stopped altogether. 
They were frozen dead to the seats ! The train stopped 
at a tiny station. To save the last child the frantic 
mother leapt out of the train for water and, returning, 
had the agony of seeing husband and child and corpses 
carried away from her by the rapidly vanishing train. 
She shrieked aloud. They arrested her for being without 
a passport. She was conveyed to the police station, 
raving. Some days later she died, quite mad. 

The soil of Poland is very rich. If her armies could 
be disbanded and set to work upon the fields, Poland could 
very speedily feed not only her own starving children but 
millions of other children also. When one of the organ- 
izations for relief heard from the beautiful Princess 
Sapieha the story of the appalling suffering of Poland's 
children, the wholly sympathetic committee, whilst 
promising help, felt bound to point out that it was like 
pouring money into a sieve to send it to a country for 
ever challenging the fortunes of war. It is, alas ! French 
policy which is responsible for the militarist spirit and 
the military adventures of Poland. French officers train 
the regiments. French soldiers fill the cafes and theatres. 

180 



Concerning the Jews 

French promises keep the people happy. It is the fashion 
now in Poland to worship the French and to imitate them. 
But the day will come when Poland, along with the rest 
of Europe, will discover to its infinite cost that the evil 
of militarism is just as menacing and corroding to 
civilization when dressed in the uniform of a French 
General as in that of a Prussian Guard. 



Russia and Poland are popularly conceived to be the 
pivot and centre of what is called the Jewish problem in 
Europe. The outrageous anti- Jewish propaganda which 
is being conducted all over the world is a disgrace to 
our modern civilization. There is a certain reasonable 
explanation of it, so far as the people of Central Europe 
are concerned, in the paralysing fear of Bolshevism which 
possesses them, invariably associated with the Jews. It 
is astounding how many otherwise perfectly intelligent 
human beings believe Bolshevism to be an emanation 
from the Jewish brain. Trotsky is a Jew, Radek is a 
Jew, Zinoviev is a Jew, Balabanova is a Jew, Bela Kun 
is a Jew, therefore all Jews are Bolshevik and all Bol- 
sheviks are Jews ; which is absurd ! As a matter of fact, 
only two out of the seventeen or eighteen members of the 
Bolshevik Cabinet at the time of the British Labour 
delegation's visit to Russia were Jews. The most com- 
manding personality in Russia at this hour is not a Jew. 
He is, if anything distinctive, a Tartar. 

" I like your book ' Through Bolshevik Russia ' very 
much indeed," has been said to me over and over again, 
" but you are too kind to the Bolsheviks. Surely you 
are aware that the whole Russian business is part of a 
Jewish conspiracy hatched in New York with the idea 
of getting possession of the whole world, in order that the 
Jews may be revenged upon mankind for the things they 
have suffered in every country since the beginning of the 
Christian era ? " 

" Rubbish," I have said with more force than polite- 
M 181 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

ness. " Surely you know that nursery -maids since the 
beginning of time have frightened little children with 
bogey stories of just this sort. Don't be a child " ; this 
to a pale and agitated young man who accompanied me 
home from one of my meetings, and scarcely knew how 
to contain himself for horror of the thing he believed. 

" But," he continued excitedly, " there's Trotsky in 
Russia, Bela Kun in Hungary, Adler in Austria, Shinwell 
on the Clyde ; there was Liebknecht in Germany, 
Hoist " 

" Stop, for Heaven's sake ! " I interrupted. " Before 
you go any farther I want to tell you that I know per- 
sonally both Shinwell and Adler. Shinwell is no more a 
Bolshevik than you are. The biggest Bolshevik in this 
country comes from South Wales, and he is made of lath 
and plaster. A lion on the platform, he roars as gently 
as a sucking dove when negotiating with the employers. 
You need have no fear of him. I hear he has been found 
wanting by his fellow-Bolsheviks and his resignation has 
been called for. As for Adler, he is one of the most 
courageous of living men, and has saved Austria from 
the Bolshevism that for a time captured Hungary. 
Liebknecht is not a Jew." 

" Well, you can't deny that there are a million and a 
quarter Jews in New York and that the East End of 
London is full of them." 

" But they are not necessarily Bolshevik," I replied. 
" The rich Jew is rarely, if ever, a Bolshevik. He is like 
the rich Gentile, he has too much to lose. The rich Jew 
is not only an anti-Bolshevik ; he is sometimes anti- Jew ! 
That is, he loses his sense of Jewish nationality in his 
citizen's pride in his adopted country." 

" Henry Ford doesn't take so easy a view of it as you 
do. He is putting up a great right against the Jews in 
Detroit. What about Italy ? What about Ireland ? " 
— here his voice fell to a fearful whisper — " Sinn Fein, 
you understand ? De Valera is a Portuguese Jew." 

" How do you know that ? " I had heard this wild 

182 



Concerning the Jews 

story before and had made careful inquiries in Ireland. 
It was denied amidst shrieks of hilarity. But if it were 
true it would have had no terrors for me. 

" Lord Alfred Douglas " he began ; but I stopped 

him, tired of it all at last. 

" Then that is all ? " I queried. " Plain English and, 
it may be, the Morning Post is your authority for all this 
nonsense ? Here is where you forge your mighty weapons ? ' ' 
He nodded. •' Well, I happen to like the Morning Post. 
I like its brutalities. I admire its consistency. It 
delivers frontal attacks upon its enemies. It makes no 
pretence of friendship it does not feel. It is as full of 
vices as most newspapers, but you know where you have 
it. There is no flirting with the thing it hates. It is 
against every political principle I stand for ; abuses like 
a fishwife everything I cherish. It fills me with blind 
fury on occasion. But it does not cook its news and — 
well, I like it. But beware of its prejudices in estimating 
any cause it attacks." 

I paused to ponder whether the Morning Post would 
welcome an unsolicited testimonial of this particular sort, 
and then continued. 

" Some newspapers and many men and women have 
certainly allowed their judgment to be clouded by 
their prejudice over this question of Bolshevism. To 
associate Communism with the Jews is also as serviceable 
to their commercial jealousies as it is to their racial 
antagonisms. And Bolshevism is only the inevitable 
throw-up of four years of the most terrible war that ever 
was waged. I know people in Europe, men of wide 
culture and of high social standing, who actually profess 
to believe that it was not the German Kaiser, nor the 
Austrian Emperor, nor the Junkers, nor the militarists, 
nor the capitalists, nor the stupid, ignorant millions 
of deceived and tormented people who caused the war. 
It was the Jews ! The whole wicked business was con- 
ceived in the Ghetto ! Can raving anti-Semitism go 
farther ? " 

183 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

" But surely there must be something in it when such 
people as you describe, men of good brain and fine char- 
acter, hate the Jews ? Why, the whole world is beginning 
to be up in arms against them. The whole world cannot 
be wrong. There is something in it." 

" There is exactly this much in it and no more," I 
said, picking up a notorious anti-Semitic journal and 
reading slowly, " ' De Valera's mother was an Irishwoman, 
and, judging from the wonderful organizing ability he 
possesses, his father must have been a Jew ! ' What do you 
think of that for evidence ? Judging from the wonderful 
organizing ability he possesses Mr. Lloyd George's father 
must have been a Jew ; yet I am sure he was a very much 
respected Welsh Nonconformist. Judging from the 
wonderful organizing ability she possesses Miss Pank- 
hurst's father must have been a Jew ; yet I know he 
was a much esteemed Gentile lawyer of Manchester. 
The thing is absurd." 

Prejudice was too strong. He left me, unconvinced. 
But it is simply incredible how many sane people build up 
a case against a person or a race on evidence as worthless 
as that which I have just quoted. 

The Hungarian Communist Jew, Szamuely, has been 
proved to have been guilty of frightful atrocities. It is 
alleged he killed for the joy of killing. He hanged people 
with his own hand for the pleasure of witnessing the better 
their dying agonies. He was a madman and a pervert. 
He finally shot himself ; but the Hungarian White Terror 
has paid this pervert the compliment of imitating him. 
It has visited upon thousands of miserable Jews of the 
poorer sort, innocent of crime, the most hideous punish- 
ment for this madman's deeds, and a campaign against 
the whole Jewish race is employing certain Hungarians 
of my acquaintance abroad in a manner highly destructive 
of their reputation for sanity. 

The popular argument against the Jew is one of crafty 
exploitation. It runs something like this. The Jew 
shopkeeper charges extortionate prices for his goods. 



Concerning the Jews 

He cruelly sweats his workpeople. He watches and 
waits for the misfortunes of his neighbours to trap them 
into his power by the offer of loans at extortionate rates 
of interest. They toil and slave to be rid of their debt. 
They cannot shake it off. He exploits them for life. 
He robs the heir of his patrimony and the children of 
their bread. And all because he hates the Christian. 
He has even been known to steal Christian children and 
sacrifice them at the Feast of the Passover. The story 
is good enough to excite a pogrom anyhow ! 

I know of no more striking case than that of the Jews, 
and the things which are said against them, illustrative 
of the fact that two and two do not always make four. 
In other words, the fact is not always the truth. It 
takes more than a statement of fact to make a statement 
of truth. An unsympathetic statement of the strictest 
accuracy as to fact may leave the same impression as 
the most calculated lie. 

The fundamental facts of the controversy about the 
Jew are at least two : Firstly, the success of the Jew is 
due to good habits and an inherited gift of intellect. 
Secondly, the objectionable characteristics of the Jew 
are the direct consequence of persecution. 

Consider the circumstances of his life in those Central 
European countries where Jews abound. The land sys- 
tem of Poland, for example, is the fundamental cause 
of the misery, not only of the Jews, but of the entire 
peasant population. A Galician village is ofttimes a 
very nightmare of filth and poverty. The peasants have 
not the heart to improve their lot. Improvements on 
their farms are not paid for. There is no fixity of tenure. 
Rents are high, and are exacted with great severity to 
supply the needs of gay landlords dancing in Paris or 
Rome. 



Alcohol is a State monopoly in Poland. It used to be 
in Russia. It is a valued source of revenue to many 

185 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

European Governments. Who is to manage this highly 
important Government industry ? The peasants are slow, 
ignorant and unreliable. They drink heavily. The Jews 
do not drink. A drunken Jew is a thing unknown. The 
very words are a contradiction in terms. It is a temperate 
and sober race. The Jews must manage the liquor shops. 
To the Jews are given a very large proportion of these 
positions in the interests of the State, and not because 
of any partiality to the Jew. The drink-shop in a village 
very naturally becomes the village store. The Jew is 
the storekeeper. 

" We had to cease giving soap to the peasants in 
Czecho-Slovakia, although they needed it so badly, 
because they would sell it to the Jew for vodka," said 
the lovely Countess Dobrenszky. 

" Why not prohibit the sale of vodka ? " I suggested. 
She smiled and shook her head. " It could never be 
done." 

As the servant of the State the Jew is expected to 
encourage the sale of drink in those countries where it is 
a State monopoly, and it is easy to see how everything 
else follows. 

The second of the two bottom facts of the Jewish side 
of the controversy is the undoubted hatred and envy 
by the Gentile of the superior Jewish intelligence, par- 
ticularly in commerce, but as certainly in everything else. 
Nothing can keep the Jewish race from excelling. Ages 
of ancient wrong could not do it. Present-day oppression 
cannot do it. In some countries still the Jew is not 
allowed to own land. In others, Rumania for example, 
he is not permitted to enter the profession of lawyer, 
doctor, or teacher. In the old Russia he might not go 
to the Universities. In Poland he can exempt himself 
from army service and consequently is denied citizenship. 
Cruel as it all seems, and is, there is an underlying in- 
stinct of self-preservation at the foundation of it, for, given 
equal chances in the race of life, the Jew will ofttimes 
leave the Gentile laggard far behind. 

186 



Concerning the Jews 

In the early 'forties an enterprising statesman of 
Vienna began to train young Jews in journalism, and 
now all the important papers of Vienna are run by Jews. 
Since the opening of new doors to them in Germany they 
have dominated the artistic professions in Berlin, and 
have contributed overwhelmingly to the intellectual 
life of Germany. The greatest continental authority 
on Shakespeare, Professor Leon Kellner, is a Jew. 
Professor Einstein is a Jew, Professor Ehrlich is a Jew. 
These two great scientists are distinguished in a host of 
learned Jewish men of science. Maximilian Harden, 
eminent journalist, is a Jew. Max Reinhardt, composer, 
is a Jew. The list of famous living Jews is too long to 
be given in full. In England they distinguish themselves 
chiefly in politics — Lord Reading, Viceroy of India, 
Sir Herbert Samuel, High Commissioner in Palestine. 
And the Jews are dominant in the Socialist politics of 
Europe, not because of any deep and treacherous design 
against humanity they possess, but for precisely the 
reason they are dominant in other spheres, because of 
their good brains, logical minds, keen perceptions and 
rare artistic abilities. 

If the economic domination of the world by the Jews 
should come to pass it will be in no small measure due to 
the historic fact of the persecution and exclusion which 
have necessitated to a great extent the expression of the 
rich mental life of the race along one narrow channel for 
two thousand years ; and it will be due in some degree 
to the comparative self-indulgence and contempt for hard 
intellectual labour of the Gentile section of the world 
community. 

This excursion into Poland, and the question of the 
Jews which the discussion of Poland always invites, has 
postponed for several pages the trip to Georgia. I had 
the intention to go to Warsaw this month, but a charming 
young Pole, a lovely girl of twenty, has come to stay with 
me for some months. Her cousin tells me she is Poland 
in epitome and advises me to stay at home ! Wanda is 

187 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

still too young to be other than a fervid nationalist and 
patriot. She is full of the poetry and romance of things, 
and the love of dainty dresses. She is filled with the 
vague longings and sadness of youth, and likes the autumn 
better than the spring, which is exactly as it should be 
in sentimental twenty. My only trouble with my guest 
is one of race and upbringing. I have an unconquerable 
and brutal British habit of saying " yes " when I mean 
" yes." She says " yes " when she means " no," because 
to her it is polite and proper to say the thing you imagine 
you are wanted to say. The consequence is that I am 
in danger of killing her by dragging her from her books 
over the hills and dales of an English countryside, to put 
roses into the pale cheeks, and a bright light into the grey 
eyes which have seen too much of sorrow and suffering 
for one so young and fair. 



188 



CHAPTER XII 

GEORGIA OF THE CAUCASUS 

M. Camille Huysmans persuaded me to accept the 
Georgian invitation. " The Georgians want you to come 
very particularly because you were in Russia recently. 
They want someone who can make comparisons between 
the Bolshevik Government of Russia and the Social 
Democratic Government of their own country. It would 
be helpful to them, and would be interesting and useful 
to you." 

The delegation was selected from the Second Inter- 
national. Besides myself, Mr. J. R. Macdonald and Mr. 
Tom Shaw were invited from Great Britain ; Messieurs 
Vandervelde, de Brouckere and Huysmans from Belgium ; 
Messieurs Renaudel, Marquet and Inghels from France ; 
and Herr Kautsky and his wife from Germany. Several 
Georgians and Russians with their wives were also of 
the party, and we were joined in Paris by Madame 
Vandervelde and Madame Huysmans and her daughter. 
The Kautskys joined us in Rome, travelling thither 
from Vienna. 

Camille Huysmans would have to occupy a central 
position in any picture of the personalities of the present- 
day European Socialist Movement. His is a figure of 
more than ordinary interest. He is tall and slender, with 
an attractive mop of fair, curly hair. He possesses a 
keenly intellectual face, like that of Lasalle, delicate 
featured, but with a slightly cruel mouth. His eyes are 
restless and his general movements, except in speaking 
in public, are nervous. He has an extraordinary capacity 
for organization, and speaks four or five languages with 

189 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

equal fluency. His knowledge of the history and the 
present position of the world movement for Socialism 
is unrivalled. 

His knowledge of the private histories as well as the 
public records of his Socialist colleagues in all lands is 
also very complete ; which makes him a terror to evil- 
doers. I have heard attributed to this knowledge the 
fact that the Russian Bolsheviks have left him severely 
alone. It certainly cannot be because he has spared 
them, for his hatred of their undemocratic form of 
government he has cried from the housetops. 

His is the artistic temperament, and he is passionately 
fond of music and the drama. He loathes all the naked 
ugliness and stupid self-repression that passes for Puri- 
tanism in the minds of the soured and disappointed. 
He professes no personal religion, but temperamental 
leanings towards the forms of Roman Catholic worship 
are discernible in the expression of his general views of 
life. The pictures, the colour, the incense, the music 
of the aesthetic temples of every great Faith would prob- 
ably be implicit in his scheme of things, for the sheer 
beauty of them. 

I have a great liking and admiration for the secretary 
of the Second International ; but it requires a sense of 
humour and a certain gift of scepticism to make him 
understood of the great mass of his more sober Saxon 
comrades. " You can as easily make an Englishman 
musical as a Belgian moral," he said gaily into the shocked 
ears of at least two English persons present, delighted to 
be taken seriously when he only wanted to draw us into 
a debate. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he spoke. 
He is the Puck of the International, the tormenting imp 
who likes nothing better than to stab with little darts of 
irony the self-important people who take life too seriously. 

On public occasions he appears the most self-possessed 
of men ; but he told me once that he surfers an agony 
of nervousness when called upon to meet strangers. 
His public speech sparkles with wit. He can laugh, sing, 

190 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

dance and shout with the abandon of a schoolboy ; but 
when some piece of stiff business arises and he has to calm 
a raging storm of passion between two sets of nationals in 
a conference his peculiar genius shows itself, and he 
restores order and amity with the hand and voice of a 
master. Without Camille Huysmans the ship of the 
International would sail very unsteadily upon the tur- 
bulent waters of present-day politics. Huysmans is a 
member of the Belgian Parliament, and if there be any- 
thing in present signs and portents he is marked out by 
circumstance and his own commanding abilities to play 
a prominent part in shaping the future fortunes of his 
gallant little country. 

" La petite Sara," as his gifted young daughter was 
called by the Georgians, helps her father, whom she 
adores. She has his charming personality and marvellous 
facility for languages, with an added seriousness and self- 
sufficiency, if not a slight stubbornness of character, which 
will not detract but rather add to the quality of her 
international work. She is a very pretty girl, with large, 
serious grey eyes, dark fringed, and a complexion of 
cream and roses. All the young men of the party fell 
in love with her and lived in hourly, jealous fear lest some 
dancing Georgian rival should persuade her to marry 
him and carry her off to his mountain home. 

M. Louis de Brouckere, tall, handsome and dignified, 
another of our Belgian companions, is the perfect scholar 
and gentleman. Could more and better be added to 
that ? 



M. Emile Vandervelde, the Belgian Minister for 
Justice, is a portly figure with a ruddy complexion and 
wonderful blue eyes, clear and limpid as a child's. He is 
slightly deaf, which obliges him to lean and strain to 
catch the words of a speaker. He professes not to speak 
English, but that is all nonsense. He both speaks and 
understands it very well. His wife is an Englishwoman. 

191 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Of French he is a master. He is one of the greatest 
of living orators. As chairman of the Delegation he spoke 
on almost every occasion. So perfect is his art, so entirely 
matchless is his choice and use of word and phrase, so 
magnificent the roll and crescendo of his argument that 
his listeners stood fascinated as he spoke, or leaned for- 
ward in their chairs, their faces aglow with enjoyment 
of gesture and speech, even when they did not understand 
a word. To the understanding the speech was ever a 
marvel of beauty and delight, holding them spellbound 
to the last triumphant word and overpowering gesture. 
The theme in Georgia was the same for us all, and for all 
occasions : sympathy for the Georgians in their effort 
to build up peacefully and on Social-Democratic lines 
the Socialist Republic ; offers of help in our various 
home countries ; condemnation of Bolshevism ; praise 
of Internationalism. 

M. Vandervelde is one of the most brilliant supporters 
of the Temperance Movement. He is by preference a 
total abstainer, although he is often placed by his public 
life and on foreign travel in circumstances where it is 
very difficult to indulge his taste. In some of those 
Eastern lands the water is tainted with germs and pois- 
onous to the last degree. When it comes to a choice 
between typhoid and alcohol, the choice usually falls upon 
alcohol ! Sometimes bitter offence is given where it is 
highly important good feeling should be maintained if a 
guest declines to drink wine with a host ; incredible in 
these days, but true ; impossible in this country now, 
but in Eastern Europe of the greatest frequency. 

It was in the company of this distinguished statesman 
that I visited the wine-cellars on the estate in central 
Georgia of an exiled Russian Grand Duke. We entered 
the vast chambers led by smocked peasants carrying 
torches. They bowed till their beards almost swept the 
ground as we thanked them for their pains. Vast, 
gloomy, mysterious in the light of the flaming torches, 
the cellars were not so attractive, we thought, as the 

192 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

enchanting garden under the moon, and the voices of 
the villagers singing their folk songs on the lawn ; so 
we left the rest of the company and sought the road 
back to the palace ourselves. 

" What do you think will happen at the next election 
in Belgium ? " I asked my companion. 

He shrugged his shoulders and spread his small, 
white hands with an expressive gesture. " I cannot tell. 
There will probably be little change. I shall have to be 
home by then." 

The sound of the music came through the trees, 
guiding our steps. " I should like to understand Belgian 
politics better," was more than a polite observation on 
my part. It represented a genuine regret that I was so 
ignorant. 

" The Belgian Socialist point of view was not under- 
stood during the war by the English comrades," said the 
Minister. " And even now we are roundly abused for 
joining L he Government, even by a section in Belgium. 
It is always the dividing line. Shall we stand outside 
and be simply a propaganda body ? Or, having secured 
a certain position and membership, shall we take the 
responsibility for carrying out as far as we can our political 
doctrines, recognizing that in a composite Government 
we can go neither so fast nor so far as we might wish ? 
The workers' party in Belgium is now the largest party 
in the State. Can the largest party in the State 
refuse to share the responsibility of helping in the 
country's government ? Camille thinks not. I have 
thought not. Now I sometimes doubt the line we should 
take. We shall see how things develop ; what the result 
of the election is. But you must come to Belgium and 
tell us about Russia, and we will show you anything and 
tell you anything you wish to know." 

At this point we emerged from the thick wood into 
full view of the palace. Servants were lighting paper 
lanterns. The clatter of plates and cutlery spoke of the 
coming revel. The choristers burst into a new song as 

193 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

we approached. The bright moon lit up the magnificent 
range of mountains in the distance. It was fairyland 
come true, making the things of this world, its dirty 
politics and mean diplomacy, look small and poor. 

A tall English blonde of very great charm of manner 
when she chooses is Madame Vandervelde. When she 
does not so choose she can be ruder in three languages 
than any woman of my acquaintance knows how to be in 
one ! I do not in the least complain of her conduct to me. 
We got on extremely well. We were sufficiently candid 
with each other to be able to maintain to the end a good 
comradeship in spite of the very trying circumstance of 
joint sleeping quarters. My one quarrel with my fellow- 
countrywoman was on account of the number of trunks 
she carried. It was almost impossible to turn round in 
that small state room because of the array of bags, boxes, 
suit-cases, hat-trunks piled into the room and occupying 
every available inch of space. One member of our party, 
the little French bride of a Georgian physician, who was 
carrying her trousseau to her new home in Tirlis, lost on 
the Italian railway a trunk containing two thousand 
pounds' worth of valuable hand-made clothes, laces and 
household goods which she never recovered. An old 
empty trunk with her original label attached was found 
in its place. It may be the effect of the war. If four 
Prime Ministers in Paris can steal several colonies in 
Africa, if fat profiteers can rob the dying Austrian 
children in their thousands of their food, surely one little 
Italian railway porter can annex one trunk without 
blame ? Whatever the reason, it is certainly true that, on 
more than one continental railway at the present time, the 
only way you can assure the arrival of your trunk at its 
destination is by sitting on it. 

Madame Vandervelde contrived to bring all her goods 
safe into port without sitting on them. She pressed into 
her service the gallant men of the party. There are some 
women — and my friend is one of them — who by reason of 
their presence of mind and absence of conscience can 

i94 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

command the services at all times and in all circumstances 
of even the men who dislike them. And apparently 
there are men who like being kicked ! 

But I do not want to imply that any man on this trip 
found his service a trial. I am sure the beautiful Lalla 
commanded the whole-hearted service of her numerous 
cavaliers. They liked her free manners and fascinating 
personality. They delighted in her racy talk, daring jests 
and semi-Bohemian tastes. The least that ought to be 
said about her is that her impish delight in shocking 
people and in saying teasing things kept the whole 
company titillating with expectant amusement or nervous 
fear. Nobody could be dull in her society ; and, after all, 
dullness, which is always a nuisance, becomes a positive 
crime on an excursion of this sort, which compels twenty 
persons to live very closely together in ship or train for 
fifty days and nights. 



Of the remaining women of the party, Madame Huys- 
mans is a pretty dark woman, full of gentle kindnesses and 
not without the gift of humour. Madame Dvarzaladze is 
a magnificent beauty of the gipsy type. Madame Sko- 
beloff, one time a prima donna at the Petrograd Opera 
House, was the very incarnation of her favourite heroine 
— Carmen — and by the skilful glances of her glorious 
black eyes and her coquettish manner brought the 
passionate lady off the stage to live amongst us for 
several days. 

M. Dvarzaladze conducted the expedition on behalf 
of his Government, and was the kindest of hosts. 
M. Skobeloff assisted him. The latter is as fair as his 
wife is dark, with the Russian breadth both of figure and 
of face, and a mass of light silky hair brushed back from 
a square forehead. He was Minister of Commerce in 
the Kerensky Government. Something in his speech and 
manner gave the impression that he regretted a little 
the Bolshevik Government, and would have liked to 

i95 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

participate in it ; but I was confidently assured that I 
was mistaken. 

M. Nazarov, as a student in Petrograd, embraced 
Bolshevism with great enthusiasm. When student days 
ended he came back to his original faith of Social 
Democracy. He acted as secretary to the expedition 
and was, without a single exception, the most consistently 
courteous and considerate person I have known who has 
ever occupied so difficult and thankless a position. Early 
and late he was engaged in looking after the comfort of 
everybody. Pestered to the verge of insanity, as he must 
have been with the requests of various members of the 
delegation, his manners never for an instant forsook him, 
and the remembrance of him alone would make the visit 
to Georgia unforgettable. 

Of the three delegates from France, M. Inghels is the 
typical bluff and substantial Trade Union leader, a 
representative of the textile workers ; M. Marquet is 
tall and slim and elegant, faultless in dress, of impeccable 
manners, leaving on the mind the impression of easy 
victories with women ; M. Renaudel has already appeared 
in these pages, the man of robust proportions and pro- 
digious appetite, of matchless eloquence in speaking, with 
a voice of great beauty. 

There remain only the English delegates to describe, 
and one of these was a Scotsman, Mr. J. R. Macdonald, 
of the dark eyes and wavy hair of silvery grey, of the calm 
judgment and austere outlook upon life so valuable to 
the leader of men, and so necessary for the safeguarding 
of inexperienced Labour representatives in England 
come new and defenceless against the seductions of wily 
enemies in the House of Commons ; and Mr. Tom Shaw 
of the Lancashire Textile Unions, stout and ruddy 
complexioned, full of fun and good-natured banter, the 
best of travelling companions and the kindest of men. 



The delegates met in Paris at a dinner given to them 

1 96 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

by M. Tseretelli, the Georgian Minister. Preliminary to 
this was the tiresome and disgusting business of inocu 
lation. The wily Georgians had said nothing about thk 
in Geneva. Had we known then of the ravages of the 
pest, and had we been told we must be inoculated against 
bubonic plague, it might have affected our decision about 
going. For some time we resisted ; but on the very 
earnest solicitations of our friends, and because it was 
suggested that by not being vaccinated we might endanger 
the lives of other people, we weakly yielded and consented 
to allow ourselves to be ill-treated in this peculiarly 
objectionable manner ! I have never been able to recon- 
cile myself to the deliberate poisoning of my blood at 
intervals during my life, and have always felt triumphant 
when the healthy blood I inherited from plain-living and 
high-thinking ancestors refused to be poisoned by the 
filthy injections. 

The journey from Paris to Rome occupied two days, 
with a change of train at Turin. The one memorable 
thing about this journey was the descent through the 
Mont Cenis Tunnel into the Italian valley, with its villas 
and vineyards and sun-steeped fields. 

We stayed a couple of days in Rome awaiting the date 
for sailing and to complete the passport business. Into 
those two swift days we crowded as much sight-seeing as 
possible — the Forum, the Coliseum, St. Peter's Church 
and the Appian Way. There are some travellers whose 
sole happiness lies in being able to boast of having seen 
something which nobody else has seen, or to have got 
ahead of the party by doing something it never occurred 
to the others to do. You praise the sunset. " Ah, but 
you should have seen it an hour ago," is the remark 
which cools your enthusiasm. You are pleased with the 
dinner. " But it is nothing like so good as yesterday's," 
is the observation which robs you of half your pleasure. 
You are enraptured with the song. " Oh, he's gone off 
lately. You should have heard him a year ago," is 
the comment that leaves you flat and disappointed. 

N 1Q7 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

" How wonderful is the Coliseum ! " exclaimed one 
of the delegates to the rest of us. 

" But did you see it by moonlight ? No ? Then 
you have not seen it. You must see it by moonlight if 
you really want to see the Coliseum." And we left Rome 
with the feeling that there was nothing to be done but 
to return to Rome to see the Coliseum by moonlight, or 
our visit to the city would be mere fruitless folly. 

I discovered the Corso to be no place for a woman 
walking alone. As a matter of fact, reputable Italian 
women do not walk in the streets of Rome unattended, 
particularly at night. I was ignorant of this, or had for- 
gotten it, and did as I am accustomed to do in my own 
country, when I speedily discovered one difference between 
an English and an Italian city which pleasantly distin- 
guishes the former ; for there are very few places in Eng- 
land where a modest woman going about her legitimate 
business unattended would be stopped and spoken to in 
a familiar way in a public thoroughfare. In the streets 
of Rome the sun at midday is, apparently, no guarantee 
of impunity for women from the annoying familiarities 
of unknown and undesirable men. 



Taranto, the port of sailing, is a quaint old city of 
antiquarian interest situated on a beautiful bay. The 
museum is filled with ancient statuary and pottery 
excavated from the ruins of a still older city, dating back 
to the days of the ancients. We spent some hours in 
the building, examining the tessellated tiles and old Greek 
vases under the guidance of the elderly curator, who, as 
he said good-bye to us, broke two delicious pink roses 
off the rose tree in the courtyard, and, with a graceful 
old-world bow, his hand upon his heart, gave one each to 
Miss Huysmans and myself. 

Taranto comprises two towns, the old and the new. 
The new is set upon a hill, the old lies about the port. 
The new has an American look about its new white stone- 

198 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

fronted buildings, the old has the stamp of the Middle 
Ages upon it. The streets of the old are winding and so 
narrow that the people on opposite sides of the streets 
can in some cases shake hands from their bedroom 
windows. They are paved with cobblestones, and there 
are no sidewalks. The houses have tiny windows and 
the top storeys project. The shops, as a rule, have no 
windows at all, but are open to the street along the 
whole of their front. Some of the cafes are underground 
cellars. Men and women meet in the shops for gossip, 
and in the cafes for scandal and politics. Work is leisurely. 
The men are mostly engaged in fishing, net-making and 
basket-weaving. The women wear native peasant dress, 
bright coloured, and attend to their houses or help the 
men with the nets. Donkeys are numberless. Huge 
masses of fruit, notably grapes and water melons, are 
piled up on the stalls and barrows that line the street 
fronting the sea. It is a city of amazing picturesqueness, 
astounding squalor and incredible smells. 

Our ship was an Austrian vessel, part of the Italian 
share in the spoils of war. Her commander was an easy- 
going Italian with a tremendous admiration for Lord 
Fisher. He refused to promise us fine weather, and, even 
as we entreated, the sun entered a cloud which, before 
evening, had spread gloomily over the whole sky ! 

We sailed pleasantly amongst the^Greek Islands, sight- 
ing Corinth and Athens and the Hill of Mars. We 
steamed slowly through the canal cut through the Isthmus 
of Corinth, a marvellous feat of engineering. We crept 
gently past Gallipoli and gazed with dim eyes on the graves 
of the gallant dead. The sea near the shore was full of 
ships, sunk by the fire from the Turkish forts, and the 
captain told us that here careful navigation was very 
necessary and we might not go nearer the land ; but 
with the aid of field-glasses we marked the blasted hill- 
sides and batteredjfortifications of the Turk. Here and 
there a broken gun rusted on its side in the scorched and 
trampled grass. Hearts felt sick for the sacrifice that the 

199 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

politicians were threatening to make vain, and we 
silently renewed our vows to devote our lives to the 
building up of such international organization as should 
make such sacrifices unnecessary in the future. 



On the fourth day after leaving Taranto we sighted 
Constantinople. This city was the most completely 
satisfying of all my childhood's dreams come true. I 
recollect how disappointing to me was my first glimpse 
of the Niagara Falls. So it has been with many of my 
friends. Such beauty as that grows upon one, but at the 
first visit one expects too much. One expects something 
more and bigger than can be taken in with a single glance 
of the eye, a wilderness of waters, something stupendous, 
to send one reeling ! One sees a vast and steady tumbling, 
a roar like a Tube train entering a tunnel, and feels the lack 
of mystery. I am inclined to think the injury is done by 
the aggressive and vulgar civilization all round : the taw- 
dry town, the eating-houses, the electric-power stations, 
the street cars, the vendors of toys and ice-cream and 
picture post cards and penny buns. Seen and heard in 
the vast spaces and awful silence of a desert it would be 
altogether different. 

Constantinople fulfilled every wish, satisfied every 
expectation. Magnificently set upon its several hills it 
appeared the queen of cities enthroned above the wor- 
shipping waters, crowned by the moon, and glittering 
with ten thousand jewels of ten thousand shimmering 
lights. By day her beauty changed. Unlike Moscow, 
whose domes and minarets gleam golden in the sun, 
those of Constantinople have lost their radiance, but 
they stand out nobly against the clearest of blue skies, 
the mosques on the hills of Stamboul competing for 
praise with the vast modern palaces at the water's edge. 
The Golden Horn, classic symbol of plenty, was crowded 
with shipping, a pleasing contrast to the stagnation of 
Astrakhan. 

200 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

The streets of Constantinople are a kaleidoscope, a 
mass of jostling humanity, white and black and brown. 
The Turkish fez predominates. The dark-skinned Jew 
and the cunning Greek vie with the crafty Armenian in 
the business of stripping the guileless stranger of his 
money. Thick-lipped Nubians are as common as flies. 
Black-veiled Turkish women add a distinctive note to 
the scene. Water-carriers sell their water to thirsty 
traders in carpets and embroideries. Anatolian peasants 
bring their fruits to sell. Turkish princes flash past 
in shabby automobiles. Gay French officers on horse- 
back menace the careless foot-traveller. Young British 
officers on polo ponies rush laughingly by. The big 
hotels are filled with the usual crowd of foreign Military 
Mission folk, big business men, pseudo-politicians ; 
youthful, very youthful diplomats and soldiers, profiteers, 
adventurers, wives of officers and women of the under- 
world — gay, charming, lovely and dangerous. No sign 
there of the bitter hate that sits on the brow of the Turkish 
cafe habitue, who deems the least tolerable part of his 
burden the position of dominance over him given to his 
ancient insolent enemy, the corrupt and perfidious 
Greek. 

I shall write more about our doings in Constantinople 
later. We sailed through the Bosphorus in a calm sea 
and into the dreaded Black Sea after the third day. 
The beauty of the Bosphorus suggests the exquisite 
reaches of the Rhine with its ancient castles and woody 
crags, but with a gentle softness for the Rhine's proud 
strength. The Black Sea belied its name, and our passage 
was without a break in its comfort and content. 



We rested for a day outside the port of Trebizond. 
There, to our amazement, was flying the red flag of the 
Bolsheviks, whose co-operation with Kemal Pasha had 
evidently not been misreported by the Press. Kemal's 
headquarters were in Trebizond. Several boat-loads of 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Bolsheviks in khaki uniforms and peaked caps came to 
inspect the ship. Some came on board. They were 
perfectly civil. No attempt was made to interfere with 
the passengers, who were strongly urged by the chief 
officer on board not to risk a landing. We took on board 
many new passengers here and at a previous stopping- 
place, the name of which escapes me. These were of 
various nationalities, chiefly Turks, with their carefully 
segregated and veiled womankind carrying large quan- 
tities of fruit, and themselves hauling on board loads of 
wonderful Turkey carpets. A few long-bearded Greeks 
and swarthy Jews were amongst the new-comers, and 
several fascinating black-eyed children. These people 
shared the lower deck with the sheep and goats. The 
sheep were penned, but the goats escaped, leaping all 
over the deck and chewing to tatters the sailcloth and 
the ropes, to the anger of the sailors, who, with all their 
nimbleness, were no match for the goats. 

Below in the hold were the horned cattle, bellowing 
their protest at two days and nights of painful thirst in 
their hot and crowded quarters. The way in which these 
poor beasts were treated made us sick. They were hauled 
from the small boats on to the ship and into the hold 
suspended by the horns from the ship's crane. Their 
eyes bulged out of their heads, their legs beat the air 
as they swung up and then down, their heavy bodies 
pulling at their horns. A young Englishwoman expressed 
her detestation of the performance in a full company, 
when, with a grin, a facetious foreign gentleman exclaimed 
with his hand upon his heart : " Ah, mademoiselle, you 
English, you have pity for ze poor animals but none for 
ze poor men. We break our hearts for ze mademoiselle 
and she care not. But ze horses, ze cats and ze dogs, 
she adores zem. It is desolating." And he made a 
frantic gesture of despair. 

" What do you say to the idiots who talk like that ? " 
I inquired, sorry for the cause of that angry flush on her 
pretty face. 

202 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

" I say nothing," she replied ; " but I begin to feel 
thankful that our quarrel with the German people is 
only skin deep." 



One night more and we were in Batoum, beautifully 
situated on the slopes and at the foot of great, wooded 
hills which make a sombre background to the white houses. 
As the noise of the ship's engines ceased, distant strains 
of music crept into our ears. It came from the shore, 
which was black with people. I grew nervous and appre- 
hensive. I opened the cabin door. I strained forward 
anxiously to hear. I was not mistaken. My first fear 
was realized. It was the " International," the song 
which brought Russia back to mind, the jingling melody 
that I had heard, at a modest computation, a thousand 
times in Russia alone ! 

I rushed to the ship's side and, borrowing a field-glass, 
stared out to shore. Yes, yes, it was all there, the familiar 
circus ; the bands, the crowds, the carriages, the flowers, 
the red flags and bunting, the photographer and cinema 
operator — all so kind and well-intentioned. I looked at 
Tom Shaw ; he grinned back at me. There was nothing 
to be done but resign ourselves to the inevitable and look 
as pleased as we could. 

We clambered down the ship's side on a shaky, 
swinging ladder to the waiting tender and steamed away 
to shore. The kindest of welcomes awaited us. Our 
arms were filled with flowers, and after the usual courteous 
preliminaries we were led off amidst deafening cheers to 
receive the official welcome at the City Hall. 



The City Fathers gave us greeting in a few short and 
well-chosen phrases to which Mr. J. R. Macdonald suit- 
ably responded. We then proceeded for a similar 
function to the headquarters of the Social Democratic 
Party. Five thousand people assembled in the street 

203- 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

to be introduced to us. The introductions were made 
from a balcony. Each delegate was brought forward 
separately and named, with certain of his gifts and ex- 
ploits. Then the crowd yelled with delight. M. Van- 
dervelde on our behalf acknowledged the courtesy and 
struck the international note, and we were released for 
lunch and a subsequent tour of the city's chief points of 
interest. 

The tightness about my heart left me after the first 
hour amongst these happy people. What, I asked my- 
self, had I really been afraid of ? I had feared to see a 
starving company drawn up in stiff lines giving us wel- 
come by compulsion. I remembered how, in Petrograd, 
loss of work or of ration was the punishment for non- 
attendance at these formal ceremonies. The cruel 
fatigue of many hours of waiting in biting wind or blister- 
ing sun was the price paid there by thousands of underfed 
and underclad workmen and women for a sight of the 
foreign delegates. I felt it quite impossible to endure 
this sort of thing again. 

But in Georgia it was different. The experience in 
Batoum was the same everywhere. There was no com- 
pulsion to meet us. The people came because they wanted 
to come. They moved freely amongst us, without 
restraint of speech or manner, laughing, shouting, singing. 
The brown-eyed children climbed into our laps. They 
shyly played with our watches or examined our clothes. 
In all those merry faces turned up at us on the balcony 
I saw not one look of bitterness, no tightening of thin 
lips, no burning hate in the eyes. One jolly giant, whose 
curly grey-black hair waved a head's breadth above the 
crowd, led the cheering, which was caught up by the crowd 
in unmistakable sincerity. They ran by the side of our 
carriages, flinging red roses into them and blowing kisses 
to us as we gathered up the roses and pinned them to our 
coats as the red emblem of international solidarity. 

We spent a pleasant afternoon in the Botanical Gar- 
dens, rich with every kind of tropical and semi-tropical 

204 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

fruit. The head gardener boasted with joyous pride the 
possession of sixty different varieties of orange. There they 
hung, yellow and tempting. Visions of Southern California 
surged up, the blue Pacific at San Diego, and the big 
glowing orange broken off the tree, ripe and delicious, 
for the daily breakfast. From the figs and grapes, the 
lemons and bananas of these gardens, we proceeded to 
the tea plantations and the bamboo woods, and saw two 
infant industries developing themselves, the one under 
the care of a skilled Japanese. Georgia's industry needs 
development on modern lines, with modern machinery 
and by modern methods. At present production is slow 
and old fashioned. A common sight on a Georgian 
landscape is a wooden plough, hand guided, drawn by 
eight pair of stout oxen. This is mediaeval. 



In the evening we were entertained by the Batoum 
Municipality to a dinner on the enclosed veranda of a 
large public ballroom. A Georgian dinner is a thing to 
be remembered, and this, the first of many, lingers 
pleasantly in the mind. Flowers and climbing plants 
adorned the glass-covered veranda on the outside, palms 
and flowering trees decorated and scented it within. 
The long table accommodated two hundred guests. At 
one end of the room a choir sang songs, and an orchestra 
made merry music whilst we ate. Course followed 
course of the most deliciously cooked food. Enormous 
epergnes, filled with glowing peaches of incredible size and 
huge black grapes, adorned the table at frequent intervals 
of space. There were sparkling wines of rich vintage 
and various colours, exquisite in the soft light from the 
shaded lamps. This dinner could not have been sur- 
passed for the completeness of its appointments by the 
most expensive mountain hotel in America. Torrents 
of summer rain and vivid flashes of lightning added to 
the sense of comfort and jollity within. 

The speeches at a Georgian banquet are delivered 

205 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

between the courses. After the speeches, before the 
speeches, furtively during the speeches, the toasts are 
called. Never in the world was there anything like this 
mad passion for toasting one another. Every guest is 
toasted at least once. The health of every lady is drunk 
at least ten times ! If the wine does not give out, absent 
friends and popular causes, the cook in the kitchen and 
the butler in the pantry supply excellent excuses for a 
further riot of toasting. Conversation waxes louder and 
more excited with every glass. Eyes begin to shine with 
the moving spirit of alcohol. Strange stories of gallant 
adventure are told aloud. Wild gestures are flung about. 
Out of the storm of confused tongues and frantic gesticu- 
lations, from the far end of the table comes a faint voice 
softly singing a slow song. Others take up the strain. 
In less than two minutes the entire table is singing, each 
person roaring his accompaniment at the very pitch of his 
voice. This song sounds like a Scottish psalm tune, but 
it is the Georgian equivalent to " He's a jolly good fellow." 
It is very impressive and runs something like this ; I 
give it from ear : 



Vtty slowly, 
Pft 



Georgian "Toast" Song 




Perhaps twenty times in one evening this song is 
started and taken up by the company. Each time it is 
a compliment directed at some special guest, and con- 
cludes with the clinking of glasses and a roar of cheers 
for the honoured one, who bows his appreciation of the 
kindly courtesy. 

A distinguished general of the ancien regime was my 
vis-drvis. He delicately complimented me upon the few 

206 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

words those gallant Georgians would have me say, and 
afterwards sent to Tiflis a large basket of delicious red 
roses for the ladies of our party. On my right sat several 
young nobles in the handsome native costume. They 
wore long grey coats, full skirted and with belts at the 
waist. Underneath was a high-necked blouse, buttoned 
at the front. Each side of the coat was ornamented at 
the breast with a row of pockets for single cartridges. 
Ornamental cartridge - cases were fitted into these 
pockets. The round hats were of white astrakhan, and 
they wore soft leather Russian boots which came high in 
the leg and were seamless and unlaced. Each carried 
a dagger at his side, with richly chased silver handle. 
When the spirits of the company had risen sufficiently 
high, two of these young princes rose and danced a grace- 
ful Georgian dance down the whole length of the corridor 
and back on the other side. The guests accompanied 
with a monotonous clap, humming softly a suitable 
melody. One arm held gracefully above the head, the left 
hand on the hip, the feet moving intricately and delicately, 
the body swaying ever so slightly from the hips and seem- 
ing to float upon the polished surface of the floor, there is 
nothing that dance resembled so much as a sailing ship 
on a placid lake gently moved by a soft wind. 

The absence of rancour, the atmosphere of friendli- 
ness, the fellowship and intimacy of it all, charmed us, 
and we left for the night train and Tiflis with regret at 
having to part so soon with these new friends. 



The special train had been a royal train. It was 
replete with every comfort. There were bathrooms even, 
and an excellent kitchen. The food department was in 
the hands of a Russian family, a widowed mother and 
three children. They were a family of good birth whose 
fallen fortunes had been relieved in this way by the Social 
Democrats as a reward for saving the life of the President, 
always in danger from the violent extremists of both 

207 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

sorts. The mother was a stout, comfortable body, and 
the girls beautiful creatures of the Slavonic type. 

We were received in the waiting room at Tiflis by the 
President, M. Jordania, and his suite. The floor was car- 
peted with rich and costly rugs. On the walls hung por- 
traits of Karl Marx and the principal Georgian Socialists. 
An orderly crowd waited outside and cheered us as we 
left for our quarters in the residence of the departed 
American Commissioner. 

Our first business in Tiflis was to attend the special 
session of Parliament called in our honour, to hear a 
speech of welcome from each of the eight political parties 
represented in that Parliament. The Georgian Parlia- 
ment is elected on a franchise which gives every man 
and woman of twenty the vote. At the last election, 
which was conducted on a basis of strictest proportional 
representation, 102 Social Democrats were elected out of 
a total of 130. The nationalities represented by this 130 
are six, and there are five women in the House. The 
secretary to the Speaker is also a woman, and a very able 
one. Distinctions of sex do not exist in Georgian politics 
or in Georgian industry. Equal pay for equal work is 
the ruling economic dictum. 

For the purposes of an election the whole country, 
with a population of about 4,000,000, is one constituency. 
As a natural corollary of this the districts have almost 
unlimited powers of self-government. The model is a 
combination of Swiss and British. There is no second 
Chamber. The President of the Republic is also the 
Prime Minister. He is elected annually, and cannot hold 
office for more than two consecutive years. Elections 
are organized and carried through by national and local 
Election Commissions. The twenty-one members of 
the national Election Commission are elected by the 
Members of Parliament. The insane, the criminal, 
deserters from the army and insolvents may not vote. 

The domestic policy of the Socialist Government of 
Georgia is the gradual socialization of land and industry. 

208 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

Having guaranteed themselves as far as possible from 
enemies within the State by establishing themselves 
upon a thoroughly democratic basis, they have sought 
to accomplish what was expected of them by disturbing 
as little as might be the private interests and ordinary 
pursuits of the citizens. 

They have established a system of peasant pro- 
prietorship. This it was less difficult to do than might 
have been expected on account of the fact that 90 per 
cent, of the land had already been mortgaged by spend- 
thrift proprietors. The law establishing the land in the 
hands of the peasants was finally promulgated on Janu- 
ary 25, 1919. The amount of land allowed to each peasant 
is strictly limited to seven acres, or thirty-five acres for a 
family of five. The old landlord may have his seven 
acres if he will cultivate it himself, or within his own family. 
I met landlords who submitted cheerfully to the new 
system and noble ladies who rejoiced in their new-found 
economic liberties. 

But again I say, a knowledge of newer methods of 
production is necessary to make the rich soil yield all 
that it is capable of yielding, and quantities of machinery 
must be imported if the area of soil under cultivation is 
to be increased. Only 24 per cent, of the land in Georgia 
was cultivated as against 31.5 per cent, in Russia, 55 per 
cent, in France and 57*4 per cent, in Italy in pre-war days. 

There is an excellent Co-operative Movement in 
Georgia which is working up a national co-operative 
scheme of production and distribution for the peasants. 
By this means it is hoped to guard the interests of the 
consumer, so apt to be at the mercy of the cultivators 
of the soil in a country of fallen exchanges, and at the 
same time leave the peasants free in the possession and 
cultivation of their land. 

No attempt, so far as I could discover, has been made 
to destroy private industry and individual enterprise, 
nor even to interfere with either beyond the need for pro- 
tecting the vital interests of the workers and the necessit} 7 

209 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

for safeguarding the interests and liberties of the country. 
The shops and bazaars of Tiflis were open, not closed 
and their windows boarded up as in Moscow and Petro- 
grad. The principal streets of Tiflis and Batoum were 
a pleasant contrast to the Nevski Prospect. 

The Ministry of Labour consists of two Commissars. 
For its purposes Georgia is divided into four districts : 
Tiflis, Koutais, Sokhum and Batoum. The officials of 
the Ministry are chosen from candidates elected by the 
Trade Unions. This important department has five sec- 
tions : (i) the Chamber of Tariffs, which fixes wages and 
salaries ; this is controlled by a committee comprising 
ten employers, ten workpeople and one representative of 
the Ministry of Labour ; (2) the Chamber of Reconcilia- 
tion ; it is not obligatory that an employer or union should 
appeal to this body for help in the settlement of a dispute, 
but once having appealed its decision is binding upon 
both ; (3) The Commission of Insurance, which insures 
workpeople against accidents of all kinds ; (4) The 
Committee of Relief, which insures against sickness and 
old age, and (5) The Labour Exchange, for the supply and 
regulation of labour. There is a universal eight hours' 
day in Georgia. Overtime is permitted in certain cir- 
cumstances, but must be paid for at the rate of a time and 
a half. Holidays are fixed by law, and those who are 
obliged to work in holiday time must be remunerated 
with a double wage. Employers who dismiss workpeople 
must provide compensation, a law which does not invari- 
ably work out happily for workpeople or for masters. 

The price of bread in the open market at the time of 
our visit was 30 roubles a pound. For the workers the 
same bread was 5 roubles. It was possible for us to buy 
3,800 roubles with an English pound. 

All this interesting information was given to us during 
numerous and protracted interviews with members of 
Government departments and Trade Union officials. The 
most distinguished of this number was M. Jordania, the 
President Prime Minister. He is a man of tall and statety 

210 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

and even aristocratic bearing. But there is not the 
slightest shadow of doubt of his democratic sympathies 
and real belief in Socialism. He wears a well-trimmed 
beard, has fine dark eyes and sensitive, shapely hands. 
He speaks well and clearly, has a rich fund of humour 
and is adored by his people. 

We had the pleasure of meeting the President's aged 
mother in her simple home at Goria. She was dressed 
in the native woman's dress, a stiff, black silk skirt, very 
full and touching the ground all round. A long-sleeved 
jacket covered the embroidered blouse. Over her head 
she wore a white veil which was attached to a black 
velvet circlet fixed squarely on the head. The veil fell 
down the back almost to the edge of the skirt. On either 
side of the sweet old face were old-fashioned ringlets, a 
part of the general costume and style of the women. This 
tiny old lady of lovely and hospitable spirit could not 
understand or appreciate a subdivision of land which 
robbed her loved son of a large part of his patrimony ; 
but with gentle firmness he pointed out that the new law 
was for all alike, the rich as well as the poor, and that 
those who had more must give to those who had none. 

In a quiet part of the garden is a sacred spot where 
a loved child lies buried. It is beautifully kept, and a 
garden seat facing the west is placed near the grave. 
We bent our heads at this sacred family shrine in a 
common feeling of sympathy and understanding. 



The foreign policy of this Socialist Republic is better 
understood when a little of its history is known. The 
Georgians are a race of enormous antiquity. Their exact 
origin is still a matter of dispute amongst the savants. 
It is now generally believed they are descended from 
the ancient Babylonians. They are certainly not Slavs. 
Nor is their language a Slavonic language. They are 
usually a dark-skinned race, tall and graceful, with 
aquiline features and flashing black or dark brown eyes. 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

The typical Georgian man is superbly handsome, pas- 
sionate in love and brave in war. The typical Georgian 
woman has a world reputation for beauty, too often 
blighted, as in most countries of fighting men, by the 
hard tasks which ought to be done by men. 

A treaty with Catherine the Great guaranteeing their 
independence to the Georgians did not save them from 
definite annexation to the Russian Empire in 1801. 
Since then it has been a hundred years of struggle for 
freedom for a gallant people whose unfortunate land lay 
in the route of march towards the realization of Russia's 
age-long ambition, the possession of Constantinople 
and the command of the Straits. 

In the hope of achieving their freedom through the 
overthrow of the Czars the Georgian Socialists took part 
in the abortive Revolution of 1905. As a result their 
leaders were either thrown into prison or exiled to Siberia. 
Then followed a period of terrible repression and reaction. 
When the Revolution of 1917 came the Georgians helped 
it, and some of them took office in the Kerensky Ministry. 

Kerensky's magnetic personality and very real gifts 
of eloquence and idealism could not hold a position diffi- 
cult enough by reason of the war, but made immeasurably 
more difficult, in fact impossible, by the disastrous 
policy of the Allies towards Russia and the unscrupulous 
machinations of the Bolshevik Party within the country. 
The mild policy of the Kerensky regime left Lenin and 
Trotsky, with other leaders of the Bolsheviks, free to 
subvert the loyalty of the soldiers in burning speeches 
in the streets of Petrograd. Kerensky fell and fled, and 
Lenin assumed his position. But not until May of 1918 
was the independence of Georgia duly recognized by 
Russia. 

This recognition was always half-hearted and unreal. 
It was looked upon as a temporary necessity meant to 
relieve the Bolshevik Government of one complication 
in their very dangerous international situation. With a 
cynicism unsurpassed by any Foreign Office of a capitalist 

212 



Georgia of the Caucasus 

country a Bolshevik dignitary in Moscow informed me 
that neither Azerbaijan nor Georgia must expect to con- 
tinue independent of the Moscow Government. Russia 
must have the oil of Baku. It was a necessity of her very 
existence ; and Georgia was too important for Bolshevik 
policy in the East for them to allow either of these coun- 
tries permanently to be independent. So long as Georgia 
remained non-Bolshevik, she was a stumbling-block in the 
path of that policy. If she became Bolshevik absolute 
independence became a matter of no importance. She 
then entered directly into the Workers' Confederation 
for the world-wide destruction of the capitalist system, 
and national boundaries lost their significance in such 
an enterprise. 

The Georgians desire, for economic reasons and 
for mutual defence, the establishment of a Federation of 
Caucasian Republics, With the idea of creating this they 
called three conferences in 1918, 1919 and 1920 respec- 
tively, with the sister republics of Azerbaijan and Armenia. 
The breakdown of the conference in 1918 was due to the 
Armenians, whose timidity or reluctance to take any 
definite and independent action could not be overborne. 
They declined during the second conference to make a 
definite alliance to prevent the return of the Czars. 
In 1920 Azerbaijan was intransigeant under the 
pressure of the Bolsheviks. These conferences were 
abortive as to their purpose, but useful for preparing the 
ground for future action. A Treaty of Transit with 
Armenia was actually signed. 

Tchicherine in Moscow, as Minister for Foreign Affairs, 
invited the Georgians to join in the attack against 
Denikin. This their policy of strict neutrality forbade. 
On the same ground they had refused help from both the 
English and the Germans, the one eager to employ any- 
body against the Bolsheviks, the other ready to engage 
anybody against the Allies. The Bolsheviks, angry at 
this refusal to help them, invaded Georgia from Vladi- 
caucasia on May 17, 1920, but were successfully repulsed, 
o 213 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

So far so good. But we saw clearly when we were in 
Georgia, and at every point, that the situation there 
was anything but stable. From the Kemalists on the one 
hand and the Bolsheviks on the other, the population 
was in constant danger. The young general who accom- 
panied our expeditions travelled almost literally with 
his hand upon his sword, and the statesmen were full 
of care and anxiety. 

The main points in the foreign policy of this young 
Socialist Government besides that of strict neutrality, 
which has already been mentioned, and the establishment 
of normal relations with the Western world, are the recog- 
nition of Georgia's independence by the Allies and the 
inclusion of Georgia in the League of Nations. They 
strongly desire federation with the other Caucasian re- 
publics. Some of them anticipate with clear intelligence 
the time when they will be compelled by economic neces- 
sities and the development of internationalism in politics 
to enter one of the large political systems, possibly Russia ; 
but before that happens — and when it happens it must 
come peacefully — they want to see Russia quit of all 
her tyrants, Czarist and Bolshevik alike, and established 
upon a genuine, democratic basis with a representative 
National Assembly. 



214 



CHAPTER XIII 

MORE ABOUT GEORGIA 

After three interesting and informing days spent in 
Tiflis, a city beautifully situated upon many hills, we 
left for a ten days' excursion into various parts of the 
country. The first trip was to Kasbec in the Caucasus 
Mountains. 

Eight automobiles, with a complete camera and 
moving-picture equipment and a couple of newspaper 
men, drew up in front of our door at 7 o'clock one 
morning. The rain poured in torrents. The air was 
hot and sultry. We were advised, none the less, to 
take with us the warmest wraps we possessed, as we 
were to climb several thousand feet before the end of 
the day and sleep in the mountains. I made an entente 
cordiale with two of the Frenchmen in order to exer- 
cise my French, and we three packed ourselves into 
one of the roomy cars very comfortably ; and off we 
went. 

Despite the weather, it was a gay cavalcade which 
dashed along the great military highway, one of the 
finest engineering feats in the world. The rain became 
steadily less persistent after the first half-hour. The 
clouds began to disperse and the sun to peep out at us. 
About two hours' distance from the city we were hailed 
by a brown shaggy figure standing in the middle of 
the road. On either side of the road was a group of 
picturesque peasant folk in their rough, homely garb. 
The men were on one side, the women on the other. 
An ancient priest was amongst them. The chief peasant 
advanced to the first car bareheaded, carrying bread and 
salt. His companion held a large horn of sour, strong 

21s 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

wine. We were invited to break bread, to eat salt 
and to taste the wine, all of which we did punctiliously 
Their faces broadened with happy smiles as they passed 
from car to car. Huge bunches of grapes followed. 
The women threw flowers to us. The lips of the bearded 
priest moved as if in prayer, and his hands were raised 
to bless. The little children broke from the side of 
their mothers and clapped their tiny hands. At last 
the horn sounded, the signal for departure was given, 
and to the roar of cheers, the waving of hands, the 
curtsying and the smiling, we left this patriarchal scene 
full of thoughts of early Bible lessons and the pictures 
of the shepherds of the East. Some of the young men 
wore curious yellow wigs of unsewn sheepskin, which 
looked like a mass of tangled blond curls, contrasting 
sharply with their laughing black eyes. One young 
giant, wearing a sheepskin wig and carrying a heavy 
stick, suggested the traditional Esau tending his herds 
and flocks. 

On we flew, through richest scenery hourly becom- 
ing more mountainous. The road continued admirable. 
The sun broke dazzlingly through the mists. The aspect 
of the country was that of a soft, delicate patchwork 
in shades of green and gold. There were no hedgerows. 
There were no glittering scintillations of light and 
atmosphere, no hardness of outline as in Switzerland. 
All was soft, suggestive, seductive. Little wooden 
houses perched upon the rocks and ledges. Large 
patriarchal farm-houses lay in the valleys. Bright 
rivulets flashed in and out of the sedge. Occasionally 
we passed a broad stream or a lake, or paused to drink 
from a sparkling waterfall. Higher and higher we 
climbed, the sweet air growing rarer, the habitations 
less numerous. Eagles screamed aloft. An ancient 
castle or faded monastery, incredibly old, stood out here 
and there upon the landscape. Everything spoke of a 
peaceful, happy, peasant life, of rich flocks and autumn 
plenty. 

216 



More About Georgia 

At intervals the cars were stopped for some radiant 
welcome of us by happy villagers. Sometimes we made 
little speeches to them, which were translated by a young 
Georgian officer. Bread and salt, wine and fruit, song 
and dance, merry words and gentle prayers and fierce 
patriotic vows — it was all very wonderful and very 
moving to the men and women from the West. A tiny 
peasant boy danced for us shyly at the little town 
where we lunched, and imagination removed that boy 
to the Opera House in Petrograd or to the Alhambra 
in London, there to delight the sophisticated city folk 
with his mountain-born grace and incomparable agility. 
The Georgians are a race of dancers. Their feet and 
hands move instinctively to a gay tune. The lilt of 
the song is in my ears as I write : 



Georgian Dance Song (to be sung to the clapping of hands) 



Vigorously. 




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A S N 










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A A 

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On and on we went, higher and yet higher The 
sun was beginning to go down. Should we reach Kasbec 
before it quite set ? Should we see the great peaks 
before darkness came down upon us ? We wished that 
we might. We wrapped our furs more closely around 
us. It was really cold now. Our faces were sore with 
alternate cold wind and hot sun. We chaffed one another 
on our personal appearance, our red noses, suggestive 
of a certain want of sobriety ! The peaks grew higher. 
Round first one and then another, we dashed at the 
maddest pace on those narrow roads. Up and up we 
went. Now the road narrowed dangerously, the valleys 
darkened, the gloom gathered on the hills. The solitary 
peasant at the head of the pass stood gazing after us 

217 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

with astonished eyes, leaning upon his staff. Round 
the last corner we panted, our machines steaming their 
protest, when suddenly there burst upon our awestruck 
gaze Kasbec, the prince of mountains, its immense 
snow-covered peak glowing rose-pink in the last rays 
of the setting sun. One glorious instant, and it was 
gone, shrouded in shadow and mysterious gloom. Up 
one more slight incline, and then began our descent. 
It was quite dark by this time. We settled down to 
quiet reverie upon the majesty of the mountains and 
the beauty of the starry night. 

With startling suddenness wild shrieks tore the air, 
and the mad clattering of innumerable horses' feet 
coming towards us along the pass. We sat up startled. 
What on earth could it be in that solitary place ? 
It was not the screaming of eagles, nor the roar of wild 
animals in pain. That steady patter of feet growing 
ever louder was of horses ridden by human beings. 
We were within a few miles of the Russian frontier. 
Perhaps this was a raid of hungry Bolsheviks. If so, 
what were we to do ? Unfortunately for our safety, 
the Georgians carried arms. At one of our pleasant 
stopping-places they had practised their arms on impro- 
vised targets. The picturesque Mayor of Tiflis, for a wager, 
had hit the bull's-eye at thirty paces, the target being 
a piece of white handkerchief on the branch of a tree. 
There would certainly be fighting in the event of a 
collision with the Bolsheviks. And then — what ? 

The foremost emotion was curiosity, not fear. 
Renaudel stood up and peered into the blackness. 
Marquet mounted the seat. I hung out of the car 
at the side. We could discover nothing. The sounds 
were coming nearer. They came from either side as 
well as in front. Shots rang out. Wild whoops added 
to the mystery and the clamour. Suddenly from out 
of the mountains on both sides, almost into the cars 
where we sat, leapt ferocious horsemen, black and 
bearded, by the score. They were dressed in native 

218 



More About Georgia 

peasant warrior style, with swords and pistols, curved 
scimitars and studded shields. Their head-dress was of 
various kinds, round astrakhan caps or the captured 
peaked caps of the enemy across the border. The 
heads of most were uncovered. Broad, spreading square- 
shaped astrakhan capes, a family inheritance perchance, 
covered the more sober riders. 

They rode hardy mountain horses or shaggy ponies, 
and rode them with amazing skill, picking up their 
dropped swords as they galloped and performing other 
feats of astounding dexterity. They were of several 
tribes, these peasant soldiers of Georgia, of terrifying 
aspect, wild and untamed, but withal the merriest, 
most engaging lot of black-eyed brigands that ever 
stepped outside a cinema show. We were out of the 
modern world and had moved back through a thousand 
years of history. 

This gallant company had assembled to conduct us 
into Kasbec, the most original guard of honour that 
ever took charge of the guests of a Government. At 
their head galloped a particularly attractive ruffian 
carrying a red flag on a long wand. How he contrived 
to carry this heavy pole in one hand, holding it per- 
fectly erect, and to control his spirited horse with the 
other, was one of the wonders at which we marvelled 
greatly. It seemed as easy as falling off a log to him. 
He led the procession in the three-mile gallop to Kasbec. 
On either side of the cars ran torch-bearers on horse- 
back. The fifty attendants grew to a hundred as we 
neared the city, the hundred to two hundred, the two 
hundred to three, four, five hundred. In addition were 
women and children in the town, waiting to help with 
the songs and the dances. 

The old church in which the address of welcome 
was to be delivered wr > too small for the company 
assembled. We held tl 3 meeting in the churchyard 
and spoke to the people from the top of a broad wall. 
I never heard Mr. Macdonald speak better than he 

219 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

did to those grim but simple mountain warriors, 
reminiscent as they were of the shaggy Highlanders of 
his native Scotland three centuries or more ago. 

I cannot write about the hotel in Kasbec. It was 
unbelievably awful in its primitive arrangements and 
its dirt. The food was abundant and of good quality, 
and the host was more than kind. To make us feel 
more at home and more secure, exuberant young warriors 
during the whole night at intervals flashed past the 
hotel on horseback, firing shots as they galloped ! And 
towering high and white in the risen moon, like a stern 
but indulgent father, was Kasbec of the everlasting 
snows. 



On the morrow morning we took a trip to the Russian 
frontier to pay our respects to the Bolshevik guards 
and to give some of our friends the satisfaction of saying 
they had set foot in Russia in defiance of Lenin and 
Trotsky. There the poor fellows stood, in frayed uni- 
forms with the red star in front of their peaked caps, 
looking dull and lonely and tired. They were very 
pleased to see us, and our cigarettes and chocolates gave 
them great satisfaction. " Poor devils ! " said a sym- 
pathetic delegate. " They must have an awful time 
in this lonely, God-forsaken spot." No attempt was 
made to engage them in argument nor to weaken in 
any way their adherence to their Government, but one 
young fellow volunteered to us in excellent French as 
we parted : " Nous ne sommes pas communistes ; 
mobilisees ! " 



Perhaps in some respects the most amazing re- 
ception we received was at Koutais, the ancient capital 
of Georgia. Literally the whole city turned out to 
receive us. Masses of people assembled outside the 
station. Beautiful white-frocked children, with wreaths 

220 



More About Georgia 

in their hair, lined the road from the railway cars to 
the carriages, throwing flowers in our paths. The streets 
were lined half a dozen deep for the mile and a half 
to the public park where the great demonstration was 
held. Here there was an enormous concourse, and we 
had a great time with these happy folk. 

Borjom is perhaps the most beautiful of all the cities 
of Georgia. It is in the very heart of the mountains 
and is famous for its mineral springs. The surrounding 
country suggests Switzerland, with this difference, that 
for nine months of the year there is a warm and sunny 
climate and a profusion of sub -tropical fruits of the 
greatest variety. As we wound through the woods 
and climbed the great hills on the mountain railway 
we felt a regret that Georgia and its beauties are not 
better known and more accessible to European and 
American travellers after health and pleasure. Other- 
wise it could not fail to attract thousands of people 
content with lesser beauties at a greater cost. 

At a place called Ikan, about three versts from 
Borjom, is the palace of the Grand Duke Michael Nico- 
laivich, whose ancient and impeccable servitors, long- 
bearded and profound, ministered to our needs during 
the whole of a long summer's night. Of this I have 
already written. 

The port of Poti we saw through a flood of rain 
which filled the streets with miniature lakes and roused 
to malignancy a veritable plague of mosquitoes. These 
vile insects made the hours in Poti a time of intolerable 
torture ; but the ladies of Poti were most kind in their 
ministrations, and made matters as easy as they could. 
In an immense church which had not then been con- 
secrated, reminiscent in size and austerity of St. Paul's 
Cathedral, we held a meeting, beginning in the early 
afternoon and continuing until the light had faded and 
the fitful gleam of torches lit up the faces of the speakers 
to ten thousand eager, patient, curious spectators of a 
dozen nationalities — Turks, Armenians, Jews, Tartars, 

221 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Russians and native Georgians ; Christians and Mussul- 
mans ; soldiers and peasants ; princes and workmen ; 
women with and without veils, little children on their 
mothers' laps, all congregated to see and hear the 
strangers from the unknown lands of the West. 
fp Our practice was to travel all night and speak and 
visit during the day. Sometimes we did not leave the 
train but spoke to the people from the steps of the 
railway carriage. Sometimes the platform was placed 
in a field adjoining the railway station, to save the 
time of the delegation. Often carriages were in waiting 
to take us into the larger towns, where we were shown 
the more important of the civic institutions. Fre- 
quently we spoke four, five, six, or seven times in one day 
I think the minimum number of speeches was four. 
And always there were bouquets of flowers and baskets 
of fruit as a reward. The Georgians are indeed " given 
to hospitality " of the most generous sort. 

Amongst the interesting experiences they gave us 
was a visit to the manganese mines. Georgia has some 
of the richest deposits of manganese in the world. There 
are already mined vast quantities of this mineral waiting 
the restoration in Europe of the amenities of trade 
and travel for shipment abroad. In the case of this 
important industry the principle of nationalization has 
not been adopted. A heavy percentage on profits is 
paid by the companies to the Government. The managers 
of the mines are of several nationalities — Belgian, German 
and English. The Englishman we met appears to be 
a favourite with the men. The Belgians were less 
popular. The German overseer of coal mines with whom 
we spoke gave the usual impression of very great effici- 
ency, and obviously commanded respect. The rich coal 
deposits need capital for their adequate working. The 
two thousand miners to whom I spoke appeared to 
enjoy the novelty of a woman speaker. 

But to say everything that might be said about this 
gallant little Socialist Republic, or even one-half of what 

222 



More About Georgia 

we ourselves saw during our two weeks' visit, is out 
of the question. The impressions formed need time for 
their ripening, but on certain matters we formed very 
clear and definite judgments. 

The Republic of Georgia, about the same size as 
Switzerland and with the same population, is equally 
beautiful if it is not even more lovely. It has a good 
soil, very fertile, with useful deposits of valuable minerals 
and a rich supply of oil. Its industries might be made 
very productive if modernized and supplied with the 
necessary capital. Foreign capital is shy, however, 
since the Russian Revolution. It fears confiscation by 
even the moderate Socialist Government of Georgia, 
and is certain of it if Georgia comes to be Bolshevized 
either by Lenin from the outside or revolutionaries 
from within. 

Georgia needs peace and security for her happiness. 
There is no immediate prospect of either. From the 
Turks on one side and the Bolsheviks all round she is 
in constant danger. 

I had the very strongest impression when in Georgia 
that the population was overwhelmingly against Bol- 
shevism, and that their support of the Social Demo- 
crats was founded on the love of the peasants for the 
land and the fear of the bourgeoisie and aristocracy that 
a worse fate might befall them. I believe it to be true 
of Georgia, as of other countries whose ancient orders 
have been overthrown, that the vicious terms of the 
various Peace Treaties have united all classes in sup- 
port of a party which has not failed in government 
because it has never been tried, and which stands for 
the national existence against a world of foes com- 
bined. In other words, there is a thick streak of national- 
ism running through every Socialist Movement of Europe, 
not excepting the Russian, whose chief leaders only, 
and not the rank and rile to any extent, are believers 
in that anti-nationalism they falsely parade before the 
world as internationalism. Surely there can be no 

223 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

internationalism unless there are nations out of which 
to make it. 



Since the writing of the above I have received this 
letter from Paris. President Jordania is there, in exile 
He writes in French, but I have translated the letter : 

Paris, 
April gth, 192 1. 
Dear Madam : 

I enclose the manifesto signed by my comrades and myself 
and addressed to all the Socialist parties and workers' organiza- 
tions. You will find in it in detail the latest events in Georgia. 
This exact document gives in brief amongst other things, the 
purpose of our action in Europe : it is to expedite the evacuation 
of Georgia by the Bolshevik troops. 

The war is not yet finished in Georgia, but it has taken a 
new form : it is no longer the Republican army which desperately 
resists the invaders, it is the whole country which fights against 
the armies of occupation as it has formerly fought against the 
power of the Czar. 

The issue of this conflict depends very largely upon the 
attitude of the workers of the world. Each voice of protest 
raised against the invaders of Georgia strengthens the power of 
resistance of the Georgian democracy and quickens the day of 
its deliverance. 

In thanking you warmly for all you have done for the cause 
of Georgia I count upon your support, dear madam, in this new 
campaign. 

Socialist greetings, 

N. Jordania. 
Madame Snowden, 
London. 

It is a thousand pities that the enclosed manifesto, 
signed by the Minister for Foreign Affairs, M. Gueguetch- 
kori, the President of the Constituent Assembly, M. 
Tcheidze, and the Minister of the Interior, M. Ramich- 
vili, in addition to President Jordania, cannot be repro- 
duced in full, for it is interesting and valuable history ; 
but in the fears for Georgia already expressed I had 
foreshadowed only what has unhappily come to pass. 

224 



More About Georgia 

The substance of the document can be given in a 
few words. It begins by pointing out the import- 
ance of Georgia in Bolshevik policy in the Orient and 
of the desire in Moscow to accomplish its conversion to 
Bolshevism. For a long time it was hoped to do this 
by subsidized propaganda from the inside. In spite of 
a wealth of money poured into the country, this plan 
failed. Then came an attempt to do so by force. This 
also failed. A Russo-Georgian Treaty secured the re- 
cognition of Georgian independence by Russia on May 7, 
1920. In November of the same year Trotsky, speak- 
ing to the assembled secretaries of the Communist 
Party, declared : " The establishment of the Soviet in 
Armenia is the end of Georgia." The Russian General 
Hocker was asked to present a report on the number 
of soldiers and equipment required for the conquering 
of Georgia. This was in December. The general 
pointed out that it could be done only with the co- 
operation of Angora ; but from this moment began the 
massing of Bolshevik troops on the Georgian frontier, 
notwithstanding the vigorous protests of the Georgian 
Foreign Minister. Although it had been clear for long 
that the Russians meant to attack Georgia, they sought 
to find some excuse that would satisfy exterior public 
opinion by discovering a quarrel between Georgia and 
Armenia over some disputed territory. Part of the 
Bolshevik army attacked from the Armenian side, 
Armenia having been compulsorily Sovietized also in 
the interests of Bolshevik policy in the East. This 
enterprise was undertaken at the very time when M. 
Chavordoff , the Armenian Bolshevik, declared his willing- 
ness to negotiate with Georgia the disputed districts. 
Another section of the Russian army began to close 
in from the side of Azerbaijan. Instructions were sent 
to the Bolshevik representative in Tiflis to join his 
agitation to the efforts of the army in the hope of 
counter-revolution within. Tiflis was occupied after 
valiant resistance. The Turkish Kemalists, assisted by 

225 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

Bolsheviks, attacked and captured Batoum. The whole 
country was given over to its enemies, who cared nothing 
for treaties when something crossed their path. 

Since all this, a treaty between the Turks and the 
Russians has been signed at Moscow, in which the Bol- 
sheviks are recognized as the masters of Georgia. The 
Kemalists renounce their aspirations after Batoum, 

Georgian National Anthem 




receiving for themselves the two disputed districts of 
Middle Georgia, Artvin, and Ardahan, and a part of 
the province of Batoum. 

Lenin is making a great effort to reconcile the 
people of Georgia. He has urged his representatives 
in Georgia to find a way of reconciliation and a common 
platform with President Jordania and his friends. But 
so far the Georgian people have shown no sign of going 
over to the enemy and forsaking their old leaders and 

226 



More About Georgia 

elected representatives. And Jordania, an exile, writes 
from Paris. 

As I write my mind travels first to Russia and 
the dying population of Petrograd, then to the merry 
Georgian peasants with their cakes and honey in the 
fields on the way from Kasbec, and finally to the un- 
forgettable national song which poured from a thou- 
sand throats when patriot-soldiers swore to defend their 
country's liberties with their blood, like the loving sons 
of every land. 



227 



CHAPTER XIV 

HOME THROUGH THE BALKANS 

After a very happy two weeks in Georgia, we left for 
the homeward trip. The special train brought us to 
Batoum overnight. The day we spent in wandering 
about the city's bazaars. Everything was ridiculously 
cheap for those possessed of English money, though 
for some curious reason which I never explored the 
Turks and Armenians whose shops we visited were for- 
bidden to accept English pounds. Some did accept them 
on the guarantee of our guide, an English-speaking 
Georgian, that no evil would come to them as a conse- 
quence. We bought astrakhan caps, Russian boots, 
silver-mounted daggers, drinking-cups, silver chains, furs, 
and jewelled belts for a mere trifle. In one shop there 
was a magnificent set of ermine skins for £70 which would 
have sold for ten times the money in England or America 
had any one of us had enough business instinct to buy. 
Persian and Turkish carpets were selling for a mere 
song ! 

The British Delegation of three kept together during 
this promenade. There is no reason for making a special 
note of this fact except this — that each of us can testify 
to the falsity of a Reuter's report circulated throughout 
England at a later date that Mr. Ramsay Macdonald 
was mobbed in the streets of Batoum by a number of 
Bolsheviks ! Mr. Macdonald was one of our party. We 
saw no Bolsheviks in Batoum. And the only semblance 
of a crowd was when, in a Turkish quarter, the unveiled 
Englishwoman showed herself in the shortest dress that 
had/ L been seen in that quarter since the last batch^of 

228 



Home Through the Balkans 

American women passed that way ! The Turkish women 
go black veiled still, generally by their own choice, and 
their dresses almost touch the ground. 

Before the steamer sailed M. Marquet and I drove 
along the sea-front to inspect the tents we imagined 
we saw from a distance, bordering the coast. They 
were not tents in the regular sense, but rude shelters 
improvised with poles and tattered garments, which 
sheltered the most miserable and squalid mass of wild- 
eyed human beings it has been my lot to see. It was 
said they were Greek refugees who had fled the approach 
of the Nationalist Turks. A pro-Bolshevik critic of the 
Georgians censured them severely for not having pro- 
vided for these unfortunates ; but when huge masses 
of people suddenly hurl themselves upon a community 
out of nowhere, organization is not simple, especially 
when means are limited. The condition of some of the 
German prisoners' camps in England in the early days 
of the war was very far from perfect ; but the sudden- 
ness of the contingency, no less then the proportions 
of the problem, offered a reasonable explanation of the 
unsatisfactoriness of things. 

The steamer which took us back to Constantinople 
brought Herr Kautsky and his wife to Georgia. Kautsky 
had been detained in Rome with fever for two weeks. 

We had a perfect voyage to Constantinople. The 
sea was as smooth as a mill-pond, and a heavenly moon 
lighted our path across the waves at night. At Trebi- 
zond several of the party went on shore and braved the 
questionings of the Turko-Bolshevik Governor ; but they 
saw nothing for their pains but a bazaar which was 
very much inferior to those of Constantinople. 

We spent two days in Constantinople waiting for 
the transcontinental express. During those days I 
talked with several people who claim to speak authorita- 
tively about affairs in Turkey, and checked my impres- 
sions of the earlier visit. Lunch at the British Military 
Mission and an interview with a Turkish prince of the 
p 229 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

blood rounded off an experience of the city and its 
problems, too brief to justify the record of anything 
more serious than general impressions, liable to be 
modified upon closer acquaintance. 

And perhaps the clearest impression of all that I 
received was that of the disinterestedness of the British 
Government in Turkish affairs. France and Italy were 
clearly up to the eyes in intrigue for positions of com- 
mercial and industrial advantage in Turkey. With this 
in view they were manifestly encouraging in his defiance 
Mustapha Kemal Pasha, even whilst they were con- 
spiring to perpetrate the Treaty of Sevres. Greece like- 
wise was adopting the insolent attitude of the con- 
queror, more galling to the Turks than the domination 
of any other foe. Upon the Commission instituted to 
govern the affairs of Turkey in general and Constanti- 
nople in particular, England glanced with wary eye at 
the deeds of her colleagues, France, Italy, and Greece. 
It might be urged that England has quite enough to do 
with her own vast territories and enormous responsi- 
bilities without adding to the burden by taking more 
than a nominal interest in the development of Turkey. 
Against such a view the men on the spot protest with 
indignation. There is a land of inestimable fruitfulness. 
It lies on the route of valuable British possessions. It 
is possessed by a race holding high repute amongst the 
peoples of that part of the world which is not averse 
to England. Widely advertised ? Armenian massacres 
ought not to be permitted to blind the untravelled to 
the fact that the Turk is regarded very highly by most 
people who know him well. His faults of cruelty and 
corruption he shares with all Eastern peoples. His 
virtues of cleanliness, sobriety, and (in the country) 
honesty and industry mark him out for peculiar admira- 
tion. I have to confess that I met nobody who ex- 
pressed dislike of the Turk. I met everywhere people 
who spoke with contempt of the Greek and the Armenian. 

" Tell me," I said to a British officer in Constanti- 

230 



Home Through the Balkans 

nople, " why does everybody hate the Armenians ? I 
do not myself know any of these people ; but I can 
find nobody with a good word to say for them. I have 
just heard one educated man declare that the only thing 
to do with the Armenians is to massacre them." 

" It is certainly true," he replied. " There is a 
saying in this part of the world that it takes two Jews 
to make a Greek, two Greeks to make a Levantine, and 
two Levantines to make an Armenian. Perhaps that 
explains it." 

" You mean that they are notorious beyond all words 
for commercial dishonesty and extortionate dealing ? 
But is that all ? That is very bad, of course ; but does 
it explain all the bitter hate ? " 

" I don't know ; but I don't believe for a moment 
that it is purely a hatred of Christianity. The Turks 
are a warlike race. They hate the pacifism of races like 
the Jews and the Armenians. To them it is effemin- 
ate weakness. They despise the drunkenness of Chris- 
tian tribes. They are abstainers by religion. And the 
plundering of the peasants by Christian extortioners 
has done more to set the Crescent against the Cross 
than any preaching of Christian doctrine could have 
done by itself." 

" I am proposing to return to this part of the world 
to visit Armenia in the spring, unless the Bolsheviks 
from Angora capture it between now and then." 

" Well, good luck to you ! " said the young English- 
man. " Nothing would tempt me to go. Please re- 
member that if half the Armenians reported to have 
been massacred had really died, there would not have 
been any Armenians left to visit ! " 

The Bolsheviks have captured Armenia, and the 
Allies do nothing to help. Therein the Armenians have 
a real grievance. Their really marvellous propaganda 
had secured them the sympathy of the whole Western 
world. They had received distinct or tacit promises 
from the Allies and the League of Nations. But neither 

211 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the one nor the other has done anything to save them 
from their frightful? fate at the hands of Russian 
Bolsheviks and Kemalist Turks. 

Prince S , the nephew of Abdul Hamid, is a cul- 
tured Turkish gentleman of the very first order. His 
beautiful little daughter was educated in England. She 
speaks perfect English, her father admirable French. 
Over the Turkish coffee, thickly sweet and delicious, we 
discussed the future of Turkey. I had met the prince 
and his daughter first in Switzerland, at Caux, over- 
looking the Montreux end of the Lake of Geneva. The 
Castle of Chillon, and mountains of Savoy on the French 
side make a picture of extraordinary beauty. Then, as in 
Constantinople, he spoke warmly of England. I have 
seldom met a foreigner who had a higher opinion of 
England and English institutions. In Turkish matters 
the prince appears to stand half-way between the Turkish 
Nationalists and the representatives of the old order. 
He looks for the day of an independent Turkey, self- 
governing and governing with intelligence ; but he 
appears to think that day has not yet arrived. Before 
that, there should be universal education for Turkey, 
free and progressive. The rich, natural soil of agricul- 
tural Turkey should be subject to intensive cultivation 
on modern scientific lines. Land should be made 
available for all would-be cultivators ; estates limited 
in size, but not alienated from the owners by the State. 

Till the day of its emancipation arrives this patriot 
prince would have for Turkey the assistance of England. 
It was obvious to the least interested amongst us that 
Constantinople suffered atrociously from the divided 
authority of the Allies. Who were their masters — French, 
Italian, British, or Greek — the wretched Turks really 
did not know. Each set of nationals in authority got 
into the others' way. There were general suspicions 
and dislikes. Could the prince have had his way, 
Turkey would have been ruled jointly by Turks and 
British until education in responsibility had gradually 

232 



Home Through the Balkans 

but surely fitted the Turks to be absolute masters in 
their own house. 

This amiable cultured Turkish gentleman admitted 
the awful atrocities committed by the Turkish Govern- 
ment in the past against the Armenians, and regretted 
them. His secretary and not himself spoke of equally 
fearful cruelties practised upon the Turks by Arme- 
nians — the same dreadful game of reprisals with which 
a mad world appears to be anxious to destroy itself. 

A marked feature of the British personnel in Turkey 
is the extreme youth of most of its members. Those 
who do not take themselves and their work very seri- 
ously do not suffer. Those who are conscientious and 
have their country's interests really at heart suffer 
acutely, not only through the physical strain of getting 
things done against indifferent officialism in a country 
of unequalled opportunities and matchless interest, but 
from the mental pain which is born of seeing great 
opportunities passed by, or seized by wiser people in 
the interests of nations other than England. 



There is a new-born Socialist Movement in Con- 
stantinople — at least, it calls itself Socialist. It came 
into being as the result of a successful tram strike. As 
a matter of fact it is really a Trade Union Movement. 
It has little knowledge of the economics of Marx. Its 
leader would be described as a Radical in England. I 
have the same view about the Socialist Movement that 

Prince S has about the Nationalist Movement — that 

a period of education would be a valuable and is, in- 
deed, a necessary precedent to the agitation for Socialist 
government, even municipal government. 



When we boarded the train in Constantinople it was 
intensely hot. Within an hour of leaving it blew so 
cold that the women of our party were constrained to 

233 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

put on their furs. For two days the intense cold lasted. 
Not until we had passed over the bleak moor and forest 
lands of Bulgaria, reminiscent of certain parts of Scot- 
land, did we begin to feel anew the warmth of autumn 
days. Milder Serbia warmed our blood, and we ventured 
to make an excursion into Belgrade, where the express 
rested for four hours. Tired of train food, we betook 
ourselves in a party to the Hotel Moscou and enjoyed 
a first-rate supper amongst the joyous Serbs. 

I hope to see Belgrade by day in order to revise my 
opinion of the city. As it is, I have the poorest opinion 
of it. Its streets are paved with cobble-stones and are 
full of shell-holes which would hold the proverbial horse 
and cart ! In the pitch black of the night — for the 
streets were either badly lighted or not lit at all — we 
were constantly tumbling into the smaller of these un- 
speakable holes or twisting our ankles on the round 
cobble-stones. One required the feet of a mountain goat 
to maintain oneself erect in such abominable thorough- 
fares. 

But a pleasing ex^ Q .rience superseded the unpleasant 
memory of Belgradt .streets . I had been given a letter 
to post to Budapest by a lady in Constantinople, who 
feared it might be opened if posted in that city. I had 
given a solemn promise that this should be done. To 
venture into those Belgrade streets alone was impossible. 
I had to wait until my fellow-delegates had done feast- 
ing. Time passed, and still they ate and ate. Soon it 
would be impossible. The train was due to leave in a 
little while. I waited. The eating went on. I rose to go 
alone. M. Marquet's kind French heart was touched. He 
went with me. We wandered over half Belgrade before 
we found the post office, and when we found it it was 
closed ! We walked to the back of the premises, and 
there were two young men packing letters into bags. 
In a mixture of French, English, and German we con- 
trived to make them understand we wanted a stamp. 
One of them, smiling broadly, took out his pocket-book 

234 



Home Through the Balkans 

and produced the necessary article, sticking it on to 
the letter himself, which he then pushed into his bag. 
We laid down a substantial coin. But with a graceful 
bow and a fine smile he declined payment. We shook 
hands cordially and parted, the travellers with a happier 
estimate of Belgrade than its stones had supplied ! 

If one can in any real measure judge a country's 
state from the railway train, Serbia and the highlands 
of Jugo-Slavia are enjoying considerable prosperity. At 
the time we passed through the country the same abun- 
dance of produce was everywhere visible as in Belgium. 
In addition, the little pigs for which Serbia is renowned 
were numberless. They ran all over the lines at the 
railway stations and clustered in herds round every 
cottage door. The neat, bright comfort of the moun- 
tain farms of the Tyrol made a very profound impres- 
sion, and were a real joy to those of us who were 
on the look out for as much happiness and prosperity 
as we could discover in a world torn with sorrow. 

A rush round the city of Trieste, a long wait in the 
railway station in Venice on account of a serious rail- 
way accident just ahead, a peep at Milan, a glimpse 
at Lausanne, and we were on the last stage of our long 
journey to Paris. The journey had been fairly com- 
fortable with the exception of the last day. There was 
no water for washing in our carriage. I mean by " our 
carriage " the one in which the English delegates v ;re. 
We gave mighty tips, but the attendant would not be 
comforted and refused to get us more water ! He pro- 
tested savagely at the amount of water the English 
people used. He complained of the number of times 
we thought it necessary to wash ourselves. We were 
thoroughly in disfavour. We bore the discomfort and 
the feeling of not looking our best till we got to Paris. 
There came relief, cleanliness and good coffee. Twelve 
more hours and we should see the home faces once 
more and recount our adventures to interested friends. 

Every one of us vowed we would not go abroad again 

235 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

for a very long while. Every one of us has broken 
that pledge. It must be so. The human spirit, once 
having escaped from the circumscribing atmosphere of 
native city or even country, will never more be content 
to be environed perpetually by so much less than it has 
known. It must go out again and again to the scenes 
and the people it has known in other lands, or break 
its wings against the bars of its cage, imprisoned in the 
infinitely small and narrow. Let all who can travel, 
for the broadening of their minds, the widening of their 
outlook, the strengthening of their sympathies. And 
let those who cannot travel read, so that they may know 
what the men and women of other lands are thinking 
and feeling, and may co-operate with them in the shaping 
of brighter and better things for mankind. 



236 



CHAPTER XV 

THE DISTRESSFUL COUNTRY 

Late one evening I was returning home from a Fabian 
lecture when a tall, middle-aged man, with slightly wavy 
hair and a pair of merry blue eyes, accosted me. He 
carried under his arm a large and rather untidy brown- 
paper parcel, which looked as though it might contain 
groceries and gave him the appearance of the middle- 
class father of a family. His voice was soft and pleasant, 
his accent unmistakably Irish. 

" Pardon me, madam, but are you an Irishwoman ? " 
he asked interestedly. 

" No," I replied. " I was born in Yorkshire. But 
why do you ask ? " 

" Forgive me, but your voice carries a long way, 
and I could not help hearing a part of your conversation 
with the lady who left you at Hampstead. You were 
talking about Ireland. Your voice and the kind things 
you said about Ireland made me think you might be 
an Irishwoman." 

" No," I said again ; "I am not Irish, but I am 
going to Ireland to-morrow." 

" Ah ! " he said, drawing a deep breath. " And why 
are you going to Ireland at a time like this ? Surely 
not for pleasure ? " 

" No, indeed ; there can be no pleasure in Ireland 
for anybody with a spark of human feeling. I am 
going to Ireland to try to discover the truth, if that is 
possible." 

" You are a newspaper woman, then ? " was the 
next query. I made no further answer, feeling that 
the conversation with a perfect stranger, albeit a court- 

237 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

eous and sympathetic one, had gone on long enough, 
when he began to speak with added warmth both of 
speech and manner. 

" Ah ! you English people, you do not understand, 
you never will understand Ireland. In your imagina- 
tion you have peopled our island with devils and con- 
ceive it to be your duty to exterminate the plague. 
' The dirty Irish ' is the way you think about us. Hunt- 
ing down Irishmen is by some Englishmen regarded as 
legitimate sport. I am a native of Cork. I am not 
a Sinn Feiner. I do not want to see Ireland cut loose 
from the Empire. And I deplore as much as 
anybody the murders on both sides. But I under- 
stand my countrymen. I doubt if you do. I very 
much doubt if you can. The differences are too 
great. But whosoever goes to Ireland without clearly 
realizing that the English and the Irish are two 
distinct and separate nations will fail to understand 
the things he sees and hears when he gets there. I 
am constantly hearing talk on this side about the possi- 
bility of Ireland making terms with Germany, becoming 
even a German province if she secures self-government." 
Here his voice became louder and his manner more 
excited than ever ; the newspaper he was holding dropped 
from his hand and fluttered away in the wind. " Surely 
if such people understood the racial differences between 
English and Irish they would realize that the same 
applies, though in a much greater degree, to the German 
and Irish ? " 

" Believe me," I said, holding out my hand, " there 
are many people in this country who do understand 
and who labour continuously to create understanding 
in others. They yearn to bring about peace between 
the two countries. Between peoples who speak the 
same language war is a crime. I am going to Ireland 
to get more knowledge about her, to talk to her people 
directly. And when I return I shall join the band of 
workers for peace and reconciliation." 

238 



The Distressful Country 

He raised his hat, renewed his apologies for detaining 
me, and disappeared. Under the gas lamp I caught a 
glimpse of tears on his lashes — tears of a strong man for 
Ireland, his native land, a suffering thing he cannot 
help. 

The Labour Party's delegation to Ireland had not 
included a woman. Several members of the Women's 
International League, and a few Quaker women on 
errands of mercy, had visited the country. This was 
some time before the Labour Party had decided upon 
an official visit. The secretary of the party had re- 
ceived from an Irishwoman a letter imploring him to 
include a woman amongst his investigators, but it was 
not thought wise to do this by the men on account 
of the danger and inconvenience. When one of the 
executive proposed my name as one of the delegates 
Mr. Henderson, with the most paternal solicitude, sug- 
gested that the Executive Committee ought not to take 
upon itself the responsibility of running any woman 
into such real danger as existed for travellers in general 
and investigators in particular in Ireland at that time. 
So the proposal fell to the ground. 

No such objection was raised when the delegation 
to Russia was appointed. On the contrary, Mr. Hender- 
son strongly pressed me to go to Russia. I cannot 
imagine that the concern of this genuinely kind-hearted 
man for the safety for his women colleagues was in abey- 
ance on that occasion. Mr. Henderson had been to 
Russia and suffered considerable danger himself. I can 
only conclude that this serious-minded colleague of mine 
believed the danger to be greater in Ireland under 
British rule than in Russia under the rule of the Bol- 
sheviks ! I agreed to go to Russia with some reluct- 
ance on my own account. Not because of any fear of 
going. Atrocity stories and wild tales of epidemics had 
no terrors for me. But the time of the proposed Russian 
visit was inopportune. I had received invitations to go 
to Poland, Spain, and Hungary. Preparations for the 

239 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

journey to Madrid had already been made and had to 
be cancelled. 

But there were no obstacles to the Irish visit. I 
wanted to go. Irishwomen wanted me to go. I received 
one pressing letter after another. The Labour Party's 
objection was laughed to scorn. I must say the idea 
that women who have lived more summers than they 
care to confess cannot be allowed to take the responsi- 
bility for their own lives, but must be a burden and a 
charge, whether they like it or not, on the consciences 
of their men comrades is in these days vastly amusing ; 
particularly to the women of the Labour Movement, 
whose conception of progress is of equality of effort, of 
danger, of suffering, and of reward for men and women. 

None the less, I understood and valued at its very 
real worth the altogether gracious and kindly thought 
which lay at the root of the action of the Labour 
Executive. 

It was impossible to resist the pleading of Irish- 
women that as many women as could do so should 
go over there and see with their own eyes what the 
women and children of Ireland are called upon to endure. 

On Saturday, January 15, 1921, 1 left Euston for Holy- 
head, alone, and without having in any way advertised 
my intention. I landed in Dublin in the evening and 
proceeded to friends in one of the suburbs. We drove 
from the station in a jaunting-car. In such a fashion 
did I get my first glimpse of Dublin under what the 
majority of Irishmen consider to be foreign occupation. 
Westland Row Station, as well as Kingstown Har- 
bour, was full of soldiers and police. Passengers coming 
off the boat were heavily scrutinized. We were closely 
examined in the train. In the streets and public places 
of all sorts in every town I visited during the ten days 
of my visit, even in country villages and lanes, the 
atmosphere was tense with the expectation of the sudden 
assault, the quick firing of rifles, the rough arrest, the 
climbing of military lorries on to the footpaths, the 

240 



The Distressful Country 

humiliating search, the heart-breaking insult. Women 
and men alike feared these things. Here was an equality 
of treatment which nobody objected to so far as Irish- 
women were concerned, least of all the Republican women 
themselves, who would think shame of themselves if 
they were unwilling to suffer what their men are called 
upon to endure. But the pity of it ! Little children 
are often victims. Boys and girls have been shot dead. 

On this night the streets of Dublin were lively with 
the clatter of armoured cars and lorry loads of singing 
soldiers not too sober. Occasionally a distant shot was 
heard. Now and then a side-car packed with merry 
little dare-devils flaunting their green flag provocatively 
for the sheer fun of the thing would rattle past. One 
trembled for the ignorant folly of madcap youth. 

My host, who is one of the best-known and most 
highly respected citizens of Dublin, did everything in 
his power to bring me into touch with every shade of 
Irish opinion, so that I might judge of things for myself 
without bias or pressure from outside. I never was in 
any country where there were fewer attempts to make 
proselytes. He himself is a Quaker, and has a long 
record of devoted service to his country and to the less 
fortunate of his fellow-citizens to his credit, which in- 
spired confidence and respect. His beautiful wife and 
lovely children gave me a warm Irish welcome, and, 
although an Englishwoman and, therefore, a justifiable 
object of suspicion, I was never permitted for a moment 
to feel myself an intruder. 

From Saturday night till Tuesday morning the hours 
were packed with incident. I think it would have been 
difficult for anybody to see more people and hear more 
tales of woe than it was my lot to see and hear during 
these ten days in Ireland. Amongst my new acquaint- 
ances were Republicans of all sorts, Nationalist Home 
Rulers, Unionists, Labour Party officials, Trade Union- 
ists, Quakers, humble citizens with no particular political 
affiliations, Catholic priests and Protestant ministers 

241 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

boys and girls from the country " on the run " in the 
city, newspaper men, writers of books and pamphlets, 
British officers, lawyers by the dozen, ex-soldiers, high- 
born ladies, the widows of men executed in the rebellion 
of 1916, suffragettes, women doctors, temperance folk, 
members of the Irish Republican Army, commercial 
travellers, and men and women suspected of being 
British agents and spies. I should like to disclose the 
names of all these interesting persons. In most cases 
I have full authority to do so. But when that per- 
mission is coupled with a declaration that they do not 
care two pins about the consequences to themselves, 
I am involved in too great a responsibility to be reck- 
less in a matter where human life and liberty are so 
manifestly involved. 

But because I believe even the present British Govern- 
ment, more profligate of its power than any Government 
of modern times in this country, would scarcely dare to 
mishandle a man so great in the esteem, not only of 
Ireland but of the whole world of culture, I feel I may 
write freely of that towering personality, Mr. G. W. 
Russell (".M"), whom I met several times in Dublin, 
always to my great spiritual profit. 

Picture a face and figure not unlike those of WilHam 
Morris in the prime of his life, with a tenderness joined 
to his strength which I imagine was less conspicuous 
in the English poet. Masses of wavy hair tossed back 
but occasionally falling over a fine square forehead, a 
full mouth, glorious eyes full of humour and gentleness, 
a soft musical voice ; the frame of a Viking, the heart 
of a saint, the imagination of a poet, the vision of a 
prophet ; a man to whom children would run with 
their troubles, whom women would trust unflinchingly, 
whom men would serve with utter loyalty ; the embodi- 
ment of the real Ireland, the Ireland that is not known 
in England — this is the man whose devoted, lifelong 
work for the salvation of Ireland is being wantonly 
and savagely annihilated by British troops. 

242 



The Distressful Country 

Mr. Russell spoke without a trace of bitterness, 
though I know he suffers keenly, when he told me of 
the destruction of Irish creameries and of the difficulties 
which co-operative enterprise is meeting with in every 
part of Ireland. He edits the Irish Homestead, and 
there he has voiced the complaints of Irish co-operators 
in language of the greatest beauty ; but to hear him 
tell the story himself was a pleasure fraught with pain 
to his English auditor. 

" It cannot be that the system of reprisals has be- 
come an integral part of the British nation's scheme 
of justice ? " he asked, as we sat talking by the fire in 
the house of a friend. " It would be too terrible to think 
that that were true." 

" The British people do not know all that is happen- 
ing here," I replied. " Oh, I know they ought to. 
Enough has been said and written about it. The ignor- 
ance of affairs outside the little circle of their own interests 
of the average man and woman makes me almost despair 
of democracy at times. But there is this explanation 
of the inactivity of the British public about Irish matters. 
In the first place, very many people know nothing. 
Those who do read that part of their daily paper which 
is not devoted to the sporting news or the Divorce Court 
proceedings read a partial tale. The news is generally 
coloured in favour of Dublin Castle and the Black and 
Tans. I cannot believe that British co-operators would 
be content to tolerate the things which are being done 
to Irish co-operative enterprises if they knew the facts." 

I was given a tiny yellow book containing the facts 
which I promised to help circulate in England. It is 
an amazing story. The statements would have appeared 
incredible to me had I not seen with my own eyes the 
blackened walls and twisted machinery of the gutted 
creameries in several parts of Ireland. Forty- two at- 
tacks by the Crown forces on these village and country 
town institutions had been made up to the time of 
my conversation with " IE." In these attacks the 

243 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

factories were burned down, the machinery destroyed, 
the stores looted, the employes beaten and sometimes 
wounded and killed. 

Questioned in Parliament, the Government has 
excused itself by declaring that the creameries were 
centres of propaganda and of Sinn Fein activity. They 
alleged that in two cases shots were fired at the troops 
from the buildings. The most searching inquiries by 
responsible people, including Sir Horace Plunkett, failed 
to produce any evidence in support of the charges of 
the Government. But Mr. Russell is not concerned about 
the result of these inquiries. He wants a Government 
inquiry into the whole of the circumstances connected 
with this particularly lamentable form of reprisal, and 
this inquiry is steadily denied. Why ? 

Travellers in Ireland to-day see all over the country 
these new ruins, centres of village industry and culture 
utterly wrecked, and the peasant farmers and their 
families driven back to their lonely farms to live in 
poverty and isolation ; driven back to feed not only upon 
their own scant produce but upon the black passions 
of hate and individualism from which the co-operative 
idea had begun so successfully to rescue them. 

" Surely the English workmen begin to realize the 
connexion between our problem and theirs," said another 
distinguished co-operator. " If our economic life con- 
tinues to be so seriously disturbed, or if it be destroyed, 
we cannot buy from England as we have been doing. 
Do you know that, with the single exception of India, 
Ireland is the best customer that England possesses 
within the British Empire ? " The political views of 
this cultured gentleman are distinctly non-Republican, 
yet his house is not safe from the official intruder, and 
he is tormented hourly with the sense of outrage and 
injustice which the destruction of his life's labours must 
necessarily produce. 

"To us it would be simply unbelievable but for the 
other follies we have seen perpetrated by your states- 

244 



The Distressful Country 

men, that any Government with the least knowledge 
of the world-situation could willingly add to its dangers 
and difficulties. Yet I cannot believe that the members 
of the British Government are all ignorant and stupid." 
This third speaker was a man who had served with dis- 
tinction in the British Army during the war. But the 
droop of his figure, the gloom in his eye, the bitter curl 
of his lips — everything about him spoke of a confidence 
lost and a faith killed. 

" Two millions of adult people in Great Britain either 
wholly or partially unemployed ; wives and children 
beginning to hunger ; industrial strife on a scale hitherto 
unimagined clouding the horizon ; men by the million 
trained to kill, ready to be used by one side or the other 
in a class war ; hate and violence the fruit of it all, 
and appalling suffering for all classes before one side 
recognizes the right of the workers to an assured and 
abundant life and the other side realizes that Russia's 
way is not the way even for Russia. All this and more 
— and yet the British Government actually or tacitly 
encourages the troops to add Irish tens of thousands 
to the British millions of workless, starving, hating men 
and women, and is slowly but surely converting the 
only revolution in history which makes a point of pre- 
serving the rights of private property into something 
which will be akin to a class war for a Communist re- 
public — an issue which I should deeply deplore " 

I am bound to confess that I discovered no sub- 
stantial evidence that the civil war in Ireland has either 
a Communist basis or a Communist ideal. The utter 
conservatism of the Irish is the most striking thing about 
them. Their determination to win self-government is 
based almost entirely upon that conservatism, the love 
of the Ireland of history, the passion for the Irish tongue, 
the devotion to the ancient faith, their love of the soil 
— these things and the memory of a thousand wrongs 
put upon them by the alien conqueror have much more 
to do with Irish discontent than any desire to hold the 
y 245 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

land in common and convert the industries from private 
to public ownership and control ; which ideas would, 
indeed, be repugnant to the last degree to the peasant 
owners of the South and West of Ireland. 

Speaking on this point with some of the working- 
men leaders I asked how far, in their opinion, the Com- 
munist propaganda had captured the Irish workers. 
" Scarcely at all," was the quick reply. " There was 
fearful anger over the cruel death of Connolly. His 
execution did a great deal to unite the Labour Move- 
ment in Ireland with the Republican Party. It was 
the sheer brutality of it. The poor fellow hadn't more 
than forty-eight hours to live. He had been shot in 
the scrimmage in Dublin, and gangrene had set in. 
Yet they dragged him out of his bed groaning with 
pain, put him on a chair and shot him — the brutes ! 
They think it's all in the day's work to shoot a ' dirty 
Irishman.' But our people will never forget Connolly 
and the way he died. No ; the Irish workers are not 
Communists. They just hate England and want to be 
quit of her. 

" Ay, and there's the case of Kevin Barry while 
you're on about the ki ll ing. Do you know they tor- 
tured that poor lad to get him to tell the names of his 
comrades ? We have his affidavit. They bruised his 
flesh and twisted his limbs and then they hanged him 
— hanged him, mind you, when the poor lad begged 
that he might be shot as a prisoner of war ! Your 
Prime Minister calls it war when he wants to excuse 
the murders of his own hired assassins. But if so, our 
men are prisoners of war when they are captured. Who 
ever heard of a civilized nation hanging prisoners of 
war ? But praise be to God, every time you hang a 
boy like Kevin Barry you make hundreds of soldiers 
for the Republican Army. Eighteen hundred men in 
Dublin joined up the day Kevin was hanged." 

i The little man who thus broke in began to fill with 
tobacco the bowl of his small black pipe, and when he 

246 



The Distressful Country 

had lit it he turned on me, fiercely demanding : " Why 
have you come to Ireland now ? Why didn't you come 
before ? Why don't more of you come ? How many 
thousands of our brave boys have got to be killed before 
you folks find out what your bloody troops are doing 
to Irish men, women, and children ? " And he flung 
himself out of the room. 

I felt sorry to have appeared indifferent for so long, 
and said so to the rest of the assembled company. 
" But to tell you the truth, I have lived all these years 
under the impression that Irish men and women pre- 
ferred to win their own battles in their own way ; that 
they regarded rather as an intrusion any effort of English 
people to help and advise them. From the first hour 
of my political life I have been a supporter of self-govern- 
ment for Ireland ; but I never dreamt that you wanted 
me, or any of the rest of us, to come to Ireland to say 
so. I believed that you wanted to work out your own 
salvation." 

" So far as advice is concerned you were right," said 
a young fellow with a large freckled face and fine eyes. 
" I reckon the English can't teach us much about 
politics." 

" I'm not so sure," I said very softly. " After all, 
you have not got what you have been righting for during 
more than a hundred years, and you have not got 
rid of the oppression that has tormented you for 
several hundreds of years. Perhaps it is possible that 
co-operation might have done it. We can all teach 
each other something. Ireland has glorious lessons for 
us English. Perhaps you could have learnt a little of 
something from us." 

There was a long pause, and I continued : " It is 
of the first importance to carry the plain matter-of- 
fact people of England with you. Ordinary men and 
women in England have a strong sense of justice, but 
their imagination is weak. They find it difficult to 
understand what they do not endure themselves. They 

247 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

find it hard to believe in the wounds unless they can 
lay their fingers on the prints. You must admit that 
some of the things which are happening in Ireland are 
almost incredible. One thing which makes it difficult 
to open and keep open the minds of English people 
on the subject of Ireland's wrongs is what they regard 
as Ireland's wrongdoing, the killing of soldiers and 
police. Of course, a certain section of the newspaper 
press exploits this to the last degree. Why do you 
do it ? Why use the methods so hateful in the others ? 
Why put an argument in the mouths of the enemy ? 
Why soil and stain a good cause ? " 

" Because we are at war," was the prompt reply. 
" You have just heard that your Prime Minister says so. 
He justifies the methods of the Government because it 
is war. We do not like killing people ; but can we be 
expected to sit quietly whilst our own men and women 
are killed and their property looted ? It isn't in human 
nature. Would Englishmen sit quiet under such pro- 
vocation ? We don't like it. And, remember, we don't 
kill innocent people like the other side. Every person 
executed by the Irish — executed, mark you, not mur- 
dered — is tried by the Republican Courts and found 
guilty on substantial evidence of traitorous conduct or 
brutal murder." He folded up the copy of the Irish 
Bulletin he had been reading, and then proceeded : 
" I'm glad you came over. I wish others would come. 
I'm sure you'll help Ireland. Tell your people that if 
it's war they want, war they will get till every young 
man in Ireland is dead. Then they can begin with the 
old men and the women — they've begun with the women 
— and after that they'll have to wait till the children 
grow up. But they'll find them every bit as keen as 
their fathers. It's in the blood of us. There are only 
two ways to peace, and God knows we want peace. You 
can either give Ireland her freedom, or you can sink 
the whole country in the sea. It's the peace of the 
dead you'll get if you won't have that of the living." 

348 



The Distressful Country 

It is only fair to say that nine out of every ten of 
the Republicans to whom I spoke expressed sorrow and 
regret that the policy of violence had been adopted 
instead of that of passive resistance. 

" But now that the fighting has been begun it is very 
difficult to stop it without laying ourselves open to the 
charge that we are weakening, or without giving the 
British Government the opportunity of saying that its 
policy of reprisals has succeeded. The very thought of 
these things is hateful to the sons and daughters of a 
brave fighting race." The distinguished old lady who 
said this drew herself up as she spoke with the dignity 
of a queen and flashed swords and daggers from her 
fine proud eyes. 

Her house had been searched twice by Crown forces. 
They did some small damage to doors and windows, 
nothing serious, for she is a woman of property and social 
position, an outstanding example of the thing I found 
to be true, that the severity of the reprisals, the ruth- 
lessness of the visitations, the length and discomforts 
of the imprisonments were generally in proportion to 
the means or in accordance with the religious beliefs of 
the suspects. Age and sex did not count. 

During an official reprisal which I witnessed in Cork, 
the blowing-up of two excellent shops in one of the 
main thoroughfares, when armed troops kept the crowd 
moving, and armoured cars, fully manned, kept the roads, 
I heard an old woman tremblingly ask a good-natured 
Tommy carelessly swinging his rifle as he moved people 
along the pavement, what the matter was. " We're only 
going to send all you bloody Catholics to hell," was the 
cheerful reply. 

To refer once more to the searchings of private 
houses and shops : I investigated three cases, the one 
to which I have referred, the house of the old lady and 
her secretary, and two others, both shops. The usual 
practice is to knock loudly and demand admittance, 
but to give no time for anyone to run to the door, which 

249 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

is frequently burst open. Sometimes shots are fired 
into the passage as a precaution, killing or wounding 
perchance the man who is descending the stairs to answer 
the summons, which often comes in the middle of the 
night. A soldier stands guard over each member of 
the family. If the house be big enough each is placed 
in a separate room. If it be small they are turned 
into the streets and guarded there. A rigorous search 
is made, beds stripped, mattresses sometimes bayoneted, 
drawers opened and their contents tossed out, pictures 
pulled off the walls, letters opened and read, cupboards 
emptied — the whole house turned topsy-turvy. A shop 
is usually looted of half its contents. Recently, in the 
attempt to restore discipline, the householder has been 
requested to sign a paper stating that the soldiers left 
all in order and stole nothing. But no opportunity of 
checking is allowed, and the dazed and frightened woman 
(it is generally a woman, for the men are " on the run ") 
signs quickly, and would sign anything to get the soldiers 
and police out of the house and her terrified children 
into their beds. 

In the case of the little sweet and tobacco shop the 
whole family, including two young children and an old 
woman, were turned into the street at midnight and 
made to stand there in the pouring rain for two hours. 
The gentle young Irish mother with the soft voice 
and seductive Irish drawl told me the story. 

" It was me brother they wanted. He's in the 
arrmy. But it's weeks since Oi saw the face av him. 
Oi couldn't tell thim where he was, but they wouldn't 
belave me. It nearly broke r e heart to see thim poke 
thurr bayonets thru the pickslmre av the Blessed Virgin. 
An' all the swates was trampled on the flure. The bits 
av tobaccy wint into the pockets av the crathurs. An' 
the pore children was gittin' thurr deaths av cold in the 
rain outside. An' now the pore lambs will nut slape 
widout a light over thurr beds in the noight furr the 
fear av the cruel men that is on them. An' what have 

250 



The Distressful Country 

Oi done but keep moi house an' pay moi way like an 
honest woman ? Shure," she said, with a droll look 
and a twinkle, "if Oi knew whurr moi brother was, 
would Oi be tellin' the soldiers ? Oi would not, indade. 
Wolfe Tone is the name av him. An' wouldn't they 
be afther shootin' at sight a man wid a name loike 
that ? " 

The Irish sense of humour never forsakes them even 
in their deepest distress. Mrs. A. Stopford Green, the 
widow of the great historian and herself an historian of 
merit, told me of a Catholic priest who had his home 
invaded and sacked. Standing amongst the wreckage 
of his little home, he exclaimed, between tears and smiles : 
" Glory be to God ! They've taken everything they 
could lay their hands on. But there's one thing they 
haven't taken, because they can't take it, and that is 
—the laugh ! " 

I came to one house in order to have an interview 
with a young Irish patriot who is " on the run." He 
came secretly and at great risk to himself. He was 
cheerful and jolly ; but, like everybody else in Ireland, 
he showed clear signs of strain and of an imminent 
breakdown. Eight times his premises had been searched, 
and each time valuable things had been stolen. Even 
whilst we talked a telegram from a friend arrived to 
say that the night before they had raided him again 
and taken away a pair of much-prized army boots. 

A splendid type of cultivated and idealistic young 
manhood, he was hunted hourly from pillar to post 
on suspicion of ill-doing ; but his life's work had been 
humanitarian, designed by the slow but sure methods 
of education and co-operation to win the suspicious and 
illiterate peasant from his bondage to ignorance and 
intolerance. 

He had been tried once and acquitted. He and his 
friend had been lodged in the guard-room. There was a 
struggle, and bombs, and the dead and mutilated body 
of his friend was carried out. The story was set about 

251 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

that the two of them had thrown the bombs at the 
troops. The bombs were lying loose in the guard-room. 
Nobody believed a story so thin. The pacific reputation 
of the two men was well known. Everybody asked 
why live bombs were left lying about in such a place. 
Were they put there to furnish an excuse for premedi- 
tated crime ? Some believed this. Nothing is clear. 
In the subsequent inquiry before a Military Court com- 
posed of young and ignorant officers with a natural pre- 
possession in favour of their profession and caste, it 
was denied that Chin's body was mutilated. But a 
reliable witness told me that he had counted thirteen 
bayonet wounds. 

The first thing which impressed me about the Sinn 
Feiners I met was their culture, then their courage, 
finally their spirituality. I speak now of those I met 
in the city — probably two hundred. Many of them 
would have been shot at sight if they had been seen 
coming out of their hiding-places to meet me. At the 
moment of writing more than one of those with whom 
I talked lies in a dark and dismal prison cell, notably 
Desmond Fitzgerald, head of the Republican Propaganda 
Department. 

What amazed me continually was the entire absence 
of bitterness in the speech of most of these people. 
Bitterness they must have felt, and yet so sure are they 
of the goodness of their cause and of its ultimate triumph, 
that they can talk with calmness and even humour of 
the tragic events of which so many of them are the 
central figures. 

" They say in England that this is first and foremost 
and all the time a religious quarrel ; that the domination 
of Irish politics by the Pope is to be greatly feared if 
Ireland gets self-government. What have you to say 
to that ? " I asked the handsome youth whose effective 
propaganda has filtered through to every country in 
Europe. It is one of the important facts of the 
present situation that the conduct of England towards 

252 



The Distressful Country 

Ireland is breeding a cynical contempt for England 
throughout the world. 

" I have to say of the first statement that it is not 
true, and of the question that the fear is groundless. 
The Irish priests have tried in vain to stop the ambush. 
They have denounced it from their pulpits. But they 
have protested in vain. This defiance is the symbol 
of a conviction that the place of the priest is at the 
altar. When he leaves that to meddle with matters 
which are not his concern, he is thrust aside. I am 
myself a devout Catholic. But I would not tolerate 
for a moment the interference of the priest with my 
politics. Young Ireland will not. Our movement is 
spiritual, deeply spiritual But with the methods by 
which we shall, under God, win this battle with our 
foes neither priest nor pacifist must interfere." 

Subsequent experience confirmed the impression that 
this is true ; that the power of the priest in politics, 
if it ever seriously existed in Ireland, is rapidly on the 
wane. True also I found was the loathing of the priests 
for murder. I talked with several in different parts of 
the country. " Murder is murder by whomsoever com- 
mitted," was the invariable comment on the killing by 
both sides. 



2 53 






CHAPTER XVI 

MORE ABOUT IRELAND 

It is, of course, as difficult as most such things to measure, 
but in the course of my travels and talks, I received the 
impression that there is less of religious intolerance 
amongst the Catholics than amongst the Protestants ; 
at any rate in the South. The faith of the minority 
there appears to be treated with greater respect than 
the faith of the minority in Ulster, I came across 
numerous instances in the country between Dublin and 
Cork of a violent distaste for the provocative behaviour 
of bigoted religionists. 

I spoke with a Tipperary man about the cruel treat- 
ment in the Belfast shipyards of the Catholic workmen 
by the Protestants. It will be remembered that the 
decline in shipbuilding necessitated a reduction in the 
staff in the shipyards, and that Catholic workmen were 
selected to be the victims of the labour depression, and 
were driven with violence from the yards. It was told 
me that they were forced into the sea and stoned as 
they struggled to regain the land. 

" Serves them roight," said this Catholic workman 
of Tipperary unperturbed, " they be always trailin' 
thurr coats." 

This good-natured fellow had had a brother killed 
in an ambush. He had lost his work through the firing 
of the shop where he worked. He had his own and his 
brother's family to maintain — " orr Oi would be wid the 
bhoys on the mountains, I would." He came to the 
hotel where I was staying to say that some unknown 
person had stopped him and asked him for the name 
of the lady to whom he was speaking 

254 



More About Ireland 

" It's wan av thurr dhirty sphies afther ye. I just 
told him ye was me half-cousin, Mary Ann Watson, 
av Manchester, and ye'd called to see the pore childer 
an yurr way to Dublin. So now ye'd better be afther 
takin' yurr tickut for Corrk, forr Oi'm thinkin' the 
crathur isn't belie vin' me at all." 

I had gone to Tipperary for a sentimental reason. 
Hundreds of thousands of gallant young Britons had 
marched out to meet the foreign foe, cheering one another 
and their own sad hearts with the refrain : ' It's a long, 
long way to Tipperary." This song has become for all 
time associated with the British Army. On several 
social occasions in foreign lands I have asked the orchestra 
for an English song ; or knowing my nationality the 
orchestra has volunteered the compliment. It was 
invariably " Tipperary." The very sound of it calls 
up visions of healthy, sturdy young British manhood 
marching out in its millions to engage its lives and for- 
tunes in what it believed to be the most righteous war 
that ever was waged. Surely, I thought, if any place 
in Ireland should be sacred to Englishmen and to the 
memory of the 250,000 Irishmen who enlisted in Eng- 
land's battles, it should be Tipperary. But what did 
I see in Tipperary ? 

The whole of the principal street of this little market 
town was blackened and disfigured with burnt and 
burning buildings. A magnificent stone-fronted draper's 
shop was completely gutted. Such shops as remained 
were shuttered, for a murdered policeman was to be 
brought through the town for burial later in the day, 
and the authorities were afraid of a demonstration. 
The streets were full of " Black and Tans," the name 
derived from the nondescript clothing which these 
military police wear, black coats and khaki trousers, 
blue trousers and khaki coats, Scotch bonnets, and blue 
helmets — a mixture of garments as varied as their 
wearers' breeding. Officers on horseback dashed about 
furiously. Numerous groups of idle men lolled against 

255 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

the walls, regarding the ruins of their town with philosophy 
and curious about the stranger within their gates. Was 
she an English spy ? was the query in their glances. 
Is she a Republican agent ? the eye of the soldier on 
duty at the street-corner questioned. It was an awkward 
situation. I had no papers with me, nothing to identify 
me with one party or the other. And it was a lawless 
time. 

One hundred and twenty-seven buildings in Tipperary 
(whether town or county was not quite clear) had been 
deliberately destroyed by fire. The damage was es- 
timated by a lawyer in the district at £300,000. A girl 
had been taken to the barracks the day before, and not 
allowed any female attendance. A young draper's 
assistant had been bayoneted to death in the guard- 
room a little while previously. " Shot trying to escape," 
was the report from the authorities on a Tipperary lad 
brought into the barracks dead. But the wound was 
in the forehead, and men trying to escape do not usually 
run backwards. 

The young women of the town rarely undress when 
they go to bed, so fearful are they of a midnight entry 
and search. The Irish girl has a delicacy all her own 
in matters of this sort. The nerves of the children are 
fearfully affected, and many of them scream in the dark. 
Ruin, misery, desolation and death in Tipperary — " It's 
a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart's right there." 



It was not very easy to go about Ireland's more 
remote districts. One day I walked for several miles 
into the country alone. On the way back I passed a 
country school. Through the open window came the 
sound of singing. Sweet children's voices sang of 
spring and the nightingale — an English nursery song. 
I stopped to listen. There followed two verses of " Men 
of Harlech," " The Bluebells of Scotland," was the 
next item on the programme. I waited for the Irish 

256 



More About Ireland 

song. It never came. A face appeared at the window, 
a face with the strained look of every Irish eye. The 
first song was begun again. I walked away slowly, full 
of pity. The young voices shrilled forth : 

" The awkward owl and the bashful jay 
Wished each other a very good day, 

Tra la la." 

Within a hundred yards of this school, full of bright 
young creatures and their sad-eyed teacher, the smoke 
was still rising from a burning homestead, and the smell 
of scorched timber spoilt the freshness of the air. 

A curious adventure befell me on this occasion. 
I sat on a low wall covered with moss. There had been 
a heavy shower of rain, and the country was very green 
and lovely. The sombre hills in the distance were 
relieved by the intense blue of the sky and white of the 
clouds. The long white lane wound coaxingly to the 
west calling for new adventures. Nobody passed me 
for full twenty minutes. There was much to think 
about : the stupid blunders of politicians and the many 
injustices of life. I was content to sit alone and muse 
on things in that loveliest bit of countryside. Suddenly 
the roar of a motor engine broke upon the stillness, and 
there flashed past me a large military lorry full of troops 
with grim faces and poised rifles. Ten seconds and they 
were gone ; and I too rose to go. At my elbow, as if 
sprung out of the ground, was an old man who had 
come silently up during my musings. 

" You are a stranger here, lady, and not an Irish- 
woman, and if you will take advice from an old man you 
will never sit on a wall in an Irish country lane. Not 
now, at any rate. I know a man who did that. He was 
found dead in the lane. He was picked off by a crack 
British rifleman who shot at the target from a distance 
to win a bet. Oh, it was an accident," he added hastily, 
noting my horrified expression. " It was not known 
that the chosen target was a human being. It might 

257 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

have been anything at a distance, a young tree, a large 
stone — anything. What happened once might happen 
again. And in that red cloak of yours what an excellent 
target you would be. You take great risks in Ireland 
during the foreign occupation. Good day to you, ma'am." 



One day, having succeeded in hiring a car, I drove 
to some of the more remote farms in the hills I had 
seen and admired from the side of the road where I 
talked with the old man. The youth who drove me was 
a member of the Republican Army, but a discreet and 
quiet boy, who would not be drawn into conversation. 
We sped for an hour and a half along a bad road in a 
high wind. It was bitterly cold, but fine and sunny. 
We stopped at the cottage of an old widow to ask 
for some information, but she lived in hourly terror 
of the barracks two miles away, and would tell us nothing. 
On we went till we came to a farm at the crest of the 
hill standing back a little from the high road. 

It was a poor farm, one of the poorest in the district. 
The farmer was a strong, thick-set type, not very easy 
to persuade to tell his story. His wife was a pale, 
delicate woman without the words to express all she 
felt and knew. Her ordinary speech was Irish. We sat 
down in the kitchen, and the wife worked the bellows 
till a bright blaze burst from the soft coal piled up on 
the old-fashioned huge hearthstone. The water in the 
large potato cauldron began to steam, and the tiny 
potatoes cooking for the pigs to stir in the pot. Three 
dogs of different breeds invited the stranger to caress 
them. A couple of cats lay curled up on the kitchen 
table. A white hen roosted on the top of a sack of grain, 
and chickens walked up and down the floor. An immense 
sow peeped in at the door just for friendliness, and turned 
away when she had satisfied her curiosity. 

" It was midnight," began the farmer, " and the wife 
and Oi wurr in bed. All av a sudden a bullet flew through 

258 



More About Ireland 

the window. Thin Oi knew that the Black and Tans 
was here. They broke in the door an' asked furr moi 
lads. The bhoys was slapin' in the barrn. They ran 
away, but they was caught, an' the soldiers made them 
kneel in the yard wid thurr hands above thurr heads 
whoile they surrched the house. They found nothin' 
at all. Thin they told the lads to run. They ran out 
av the gate an' the dirty blackguards shot at thim. But 
they got away, all but wan. He was shot in the arrm 
and leg, an' he's lyin' in the hospital now. We found 
him in the turnup field the next mornin' bleeding bad ; 
for it was foive hours he was lying thurr before we found 
him, the pore lad." He spoke quietly and without 
emotion, but there was a gleam in his eye that spoke 
volumes of hate and fury. Later in the day I went to 
the hospital and saw the wounded son, a beautiful, 
modest boy with the sort of open face that invites 
perfect trust. He told me he neither smokes nor 
drinks, and passed the cigarettes I brought him to his 
comrades. 

" It is the rule of the Republican Army," added the 
gentle Catholic sister who was nursing these wounded 
boys, " that no alcohol must be taken. Would to heaven 
it were the rule of the British Army too. But they tell 
me that Dublin Castle gives drink freely to the men 
it sends out upon its black errands." She stopped 
suddenly, and busied herself with one of her patients 
in some confusion for fear she had said too much. It 
reminded me of a pathetic school teacher in Petrograd 
who told me things about herself, thinking I was sym- 
pathetic, and then became overwhelmed with fear lest 
she had made a mistake and revealed her secrets to a 
Bolshevik spy. " You will not give me away, dear 
madame ? I have said nothing wrong, have I ? Only 
that we are all very hungry and very unhappy ? Say 
you will not report what I have said. Swear it ! Swear 
it ! " And she pressed my hand in her fear of what 
might befall her till I could have shouted with pain. 

259 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

The old peasant wife begged me to take tea, but there 
was much to do that day, so I begged to be excused, 
and drove away to a small farm still more remote from 
the broad highway. This farm was reached through 
two ploughed fields. In it lived an elderly farmer, his 
wife and daughter. I knocked loudly at the door, but 
there was no reply. I knocked again and again, but 
nobody appeared. A dog barked loudly, suggesting 
human habitation, so I persisted, and after a while the 
farmer appeared and roughly demanded my business. 
I told him who I was and what my errand — to hear his 
story and make it known. 

" And what forr should Oi tell ye my sthory," he 
demanded fiercely. " Don't ye know, don't the people 
av England know that it was the English Crown that 
killed my bhoy ? Don't the English people know widout 
my tellin' thim what thurr soldiers are doin' to Oire- 
land ? Av course they know ; but they don't care. 
Oi'll not tell ye wan worrd av the tale." 

His daughter came in, a buxom dark-haired girl, 
whose face was black with the smoke from the peat fire, 
and we two listened for ten minutes to the most terrible 
outpouring of hate and rage against England that it has 
ever been my lot to hear. I sat perfectly still, but the 
torrent of passionate words brought from an inner room 
the farmer's white-haired old wife, who greeted me with 
the grace of a queen and tried to stem the torrent of the 
old man's rage. "I understand, dear friend," I said 
to the old woman, " I understand. If I had lost a child 
in such a way I should probably have said much worse 
things than this, being a woman." 

The old man's blue eyes softened a little at this, 
and after I had tried to make him understand that it 
was no idle curiosity that had brought me from England 
to his lonely farm, he said brokenly : " Well, ma'am, 
ye seem to have a koind heart, an' if it's really wantin' 
to help sthop this koind av thing ye're afther Oi'll 
thry to tell ye." And he tried. But he failed. He 

260 



More About Ireland 

broke into awful weeping instead. And when she saw 
her old man broken down the old wife fell a-weeping 
too, and there was such a wailing and a sobbing in that 
little farm kitchen as almost drew the heart out of the 
body. I took the frail old woman in my arms and tried 
to soothe her. I begged her to cry on my shoulder. 
She said she couldn't cry, hadn't cried since they brought 
the boy home dead. Her eyes were wild and burning. 
Between dry sobs and moans I got the tale. 

The men had come in the night, the same men who 
had shot the lad at the farm below, and the same night, 
and demanded the whereabouts of one of the sons. 
Neither man nor wife knew. They had not seen the 
boy for weeks. They pushed the old farmer against the 
wall and threatened to kill him if he didn't tell. A 
young and delicate boy, never allowed out at nights 
because of his lungs, hearing the noise and the scuffle 
dressed quickly and rushed into the room crying : " Don't 
shoot my old dad. Shoot me." 

" Ah," said one of the intruders, " here's our man. 
I knew they had him somewhere." 

" No," said another. " He's not the chap. It's 
his brother we're after." 

" Never mind," was the retort. " This one will do." 
And they dragged him across the field to the waiting 
lorry and there they shot him dead. " Trying to escape," 
was the official story ; but it was not true, and nobody 
believes it. If in Ireland you speak of this excuse in 
any company there are shouts of ironic laughter. 

" And it was to save his father my poor bhoy went 
wid the murthering men," said the poor mother; " an' 
for that they shot him, the black-hearted scoundrels ; 
an' no priest wid him wan he died. But if there's a God 
in 'ivin me pore bhoy will go straight to his arms, forr 
niver a word av wrong could be said against the lad. 
He was the best son Oi had, an' a good bhoy to his 
father." 

A small black cross on the side of the road and the 
r 261 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

letters R.I.P. mark the spot where the young martyr 
was killed. 

I left the farm sick with the sight of so much pain 
and sorrow. The old man accompanied me to the gate, 
choosing the path for me and offering his aid over the 
bad places with all the instinctive courtesy of his race. 
His eye lit up when he heard that " the Prisident " had 
arrived in Ireland. He idealized De Valera with all 
the power of his native imagination. He told how, for 
miles around, men, women and little children were 
afraid to sleep in their beds at night, but took to the 
fields and hills, and slept in blankets under the hedges. 
The wind whistled past me as he spoke, and the rain 
began to fall, and I pulled my cloak more tightly around 
me, for I heard with the mind's ear small children in 
the night sobbing themselves to sleep under the dank 
hedgerows. 

I had planned to visit other sufferers, but farther 
I could not go. The human spirit bruises itself to death 
in the perpetual contemplation at close quarters of 
misery and wrong, and relief in action becomes necessary 
for sanity. I would go to Cork and see the sacked city, 
and then return to England with the story of it all. 



The train drew into Cork station an hour late, only 
twenty minutes before the hour of curfew. The jarvey 
who drove me to the hotel was determined that I should 
have a swift view of the ruins ; or was it a laudable 
desire to earn more money made him take me by a cir- 
cuitous route ? It did not matter. I was glad of the 
view. And the ruins were softened by the moonlight 
into a poetry of aspect which the charred walls of daylight 
could never display. The whole of the town's business 
centre appeared to have been destroyed. It stood out 
in my mind as comparable with some of the newspaper 
pictures of Ypres after the great battle. Of course, 
there was nothing like the same amount of devastation ; 

262 



More About Ireland 

but the ruin of the particular section which met the eye 
on entering the city's centre was complete and very 
appalling. 

The first thing I did at the hotel was to ask for the 
headquarters of the Society of Friends. My friend, 
Miss Edith Ellis, was doing relief work in the city, and 
I had mislaid her address. The Friends would know it. 
I also inquired for Mrs. Despard, for I had seen a picture 
of her in that day's newspaper standing in the ruins 
with Madame McBride, the beautiful widow of Major 
McBride, who was executed in the 1916 rebellion. I 
was told Mrs. Despard had left for Mallow two days 
before. This was disappointing. A tall evil-looking 
man leaning up against the hotel bureau scrutinized 
everybody who came into the hotel, and gave the im- 
pression of being there for that purpose. I have seen 
so many " Intelligence " men that I know them as well 
as I know a Lancashire weaver, a Yorkshire miner, or 
a school teacher from anywhere. 

I asked if it were possible to have something to eat 
at that hour, for there was an ominous emptiness in the 
dining-room. This was 8.45 p.m. 

" I hope, ma'am, that ye'll be comfortable here," 
said a kindly waiter. " I heard ye asking after Mrs. 
Despard. I hope ye'll have a better time than the 
pore lady herself had." 

" Why, whatever was the matter with her ? " I 
asked, with interest and alarm. 

" Nothing was the matter wid Mrs. Despard, lady ; 
but the pore lady was niver foive minutes widout some- 
body followin' her about, though she doesn't know 
ut." 

" Mrs. Despard wouldn't be troubled about that. She 
is a gallant soul, and her only concern is the care of the 
poor and the oppressed. She is an Irishwoman, you 
know, and a true friend of your country." 

" Indade an' she is, ma'am, an' if it's her friend ye 
are, ye'll be wishin' nothin' but good to the counthry 

263 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

too. But be vurry careful or wan side or the other'll be 
shootin' ye. The blood is up in Corrk." 

There was much laughing and screaming in the streets 
outside, and my side-car had wormed its way through 
vast crowds of saunterers in the splendid moonlit evening. 
The hour for curfew struck, and in an instant an uncanny 
silence fell upon the city. Indoors, affected by the quiet 
outside, men crept about softly, or sought their beds 
early, afraid almost of the sudden and general noiseless- 
ness. The only sounds that were heard till the dawn 
of day were those of the racing lorries full of armed 
men and the armoured cars patrolling the city. Round 
the bend of Patrick Street they came, noisy and aggressive, 
to arrest or shoot at sight the unfortunate individual 
caught walking the streets after the hour of nine. On 
the second night a new sound struck upon the ear, 
cutting the perfect silence with its shrillness, the loud 
laughing and screaming of coarse women's voices, which 
suggested unspeakable things. 

Apart from seeing the official reprisal to which 
reference has already been made and the awful ruins 
of the city, which included the Carnegie Library and 
the City Hall on the opposite side of the river, the short 
visit to Cork was fruitful of the conviction that the 
unhappy citizens of Cork are placed on the horns of a 
very terrible dilemma. General Strickland has made 
them responsible for the outrages on soldiers and police 
which are committed. He inflicts severe penalties on 
them for failing to stop them. This they would endeavour 
to do, but they do not know how and they are genuinely 
afraid to attempt. They believe that the shooting 
of police is done by people who do not live in Cork. 
As in all cities the citizens of Cork are for the most part 
not actively interested in politics. They vote when 
occasion comes, but this is the limit of their activity. 
And voting and not shooting is their chosen method 
of expressing their views. They do not know who 
shoots. If they did and informed they would be "shot 

264 



More About Ireland 

by the Republicans. As they don't know and cannot 
inform they are made to suffer reprisals by the British 
authorities. Their position calls for the utmost sympathy 
and understanding. ' 

I cannot help feeling that the citizens of Cork who 
are against violence would be greatly strengthened if 
the findings in the official inquiry on the Cork burnings 
could be published and adequate punishment administered 
to the evildoers. This has not been done. British 
justice in Ireland is not evenhanded. Somebody is 
being sheltered. The Black and Tans would mutiny. 
The authorities themselves organized the looting. All 
sorts of things are being said, all sorts of things believed. 
The belief in British fair play is gone. Can it really 
be after all that we are living on our tradition in this 
matter as are the French on their reputation for good 
manners ? 

Back to Dublin from Cork and a final meeting with 
my good friends there. It was a splendid company, 
representative of the brilliant wit and intellect for which 
Ireland is so justly famed. I was going home, so it 
was entirely proper that these last hours should be 
devoted to question and answer on both sides. 

I spoke again of the difficulty of winning and main- 
taining sympathy for Ireland in England so long as the 
killing of British soldiers continued. All deplored the 
necessity, but those who believed that the method could 
now be changed were in a small minority. 

" Ask Englishmen who complain two questions," 
said a distinguished professor, whose name is known 
wherever scholarship is respected. " Who began it, 
and how they would behave in the same circumstances." 

" Forgive the question," I said, " but who do you 
really think did begin it ? " 

" The Republicans certainly did not," said a 
young lawyer rather hotly. " I am not a Re- 
publican, but one must face facts. For two years 
after the killing of Irish civilians by British Crown 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

forces no member of the forces lost his life. In the 
meantime unspeakable humiliations were put upon the 
Irish people. The miscreants who killed two Irish 
civilians in 1917 and five in 1918 were never brought to 
trial. No steps were taken to bring them to trial. In 
the meantime innocent men on the Irish side were 
arrested and imprisoned without trial ; private houses 
were raided and their contents stolen, meetings and 
newspapers were violently suppressed, and deporta- 
tions were very frequent. In 1918 alone 1,117 Irish 
men and women were arrested for political reasons ; 
j j Sinn Feiners were deported in one month ; 260 
private houses were raided by night, and 81 meetings 
were broken up with bayonets. 

" The bottom fact of the whole trouble lies in this : 
The British Government is uneven in its administration 
of justice, and it breaks its pledges. It hangs the Case- 
ments and puts the Carsons in the Cabinet. What 
essential difference was there in their offences ? The 
death of a British soldier or policeman is bitterly avenged 
even upon the innocent and out of all proportion to 
the crime. The death of a Republican is applauded, 
and that of a non-partisan is rarely even inquired into. 
Have you seen the kind of thing which is published and 
circulated broadcast with the approval of the authori- 
ties ? " Here he handed to me a paper, an extract 
from which I quote. It was delivered to the Cork 
newspaper offices : — 

Anti-Sinn Fein Society, 
Cork Headquarters, 

Grand Parade, Cork. 

'-' In the event of a member of His Majesty's Forces being 
wounded or an attempt made to wound him, one member of 
the Sinn Fein Party will be killed ; or if a member of the Sinn 
Fein Party is not available two sympathisers will be killed. 
" (Signed) The Assistant Secretary^" 

" And you must agree," said a third speaker, " that 
Ireland has been very badly tricked by your Government. 

266 



More About Ireland 

Witness the Convention and the use that was made of 
it to impose conscription upon Ireland ; the conscription 
of a country which has been reviled by Englishmen for 
years, and which it was proposed even then to partition 
— conscription which was by very many disapproved 
of for England, accepted with extreme reluctance by 
Canada and rejected by Australia." 

I recalled at this stage of the proceedings the humorous 
hall-porter at one of the hotels who had put his head 
round the corner of the writing-room when I was alone 
there and whispered : " John Redmond's the man who 
made all the trouble. He wasn't clever enough for your 
Lloyd George. Why the divil didn't he get the promise 
in writin'. There's no wrigglin' out av somethin' that's 
in black and white, wid a good strong name at the end 
av the paper. Shure," he continued with a roguish 
smile broadening his honest red face, " isn't it the King- 
dom av 'Ivin Oi'd be afther promisin' if Oi was the Proime 
Minister an thurr was throuble brewin' ? " 

I am sure this must have been the man who tried 
to persuade one of the Labour delegates not to go into 
the street when the Black and Tans were busy shooting. 
" But I'm an Englishman, friend. They'll not shoot 
me." 

" Shure, sorr, an' I wouldn't be trustin' thim divils. 
They'll shoot ye first, and thin find out ye're an English- 
man aftherwards." 



" What about the rebellion of 1916 ? Talk to me 
a little about that," I said to a young fellow whose keen- 
ness was very attractive. 

" It was a very small rising of extremists, a piece of 
insanity repudiated by nearly everybody in Ireland. 
A group of idealists, who believed they could imitate 
the Ulster Unionists and enjoy the same immunity, 
thought they would make a similar demonstration. 
The hideous severity with which the rebels were treated 

267 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

and the long-continued persecution of perfectly innocent 
people suspected of sympathy with the rebels were the 
causes of the rise of political Sinn Fein." 

" And now ? " I asked. " What is the exact situa- 
tion now ? What are the hopes for peace ? " 

" There is no hope unless the English people wake 
up, change this Government and Parliament for one 
more competent and humane, which will adopt a saner 
policy, the one for which they say they fought the war. 
Ireland must have the right to choose her own form of 
government." 

" The Irish have chosen their government, and it 
is working very well," chimed in a determined-looking 
young woman wearing the uniform of the Irish Re- 
publican Army. " All we ask is to be let alone. We 
can keep order if the English will let us. They cannot 
do so." 

I thought as these stern criticisms of England's 
Government stormed my ears, often expressed in stronger 
language than I have used here, that it is no use going 
into the enemy's country if one cannot stand fire. The 
person who has no facility for getting into the skin of 
another had better stay at home by his own fireside. 
The role of political pilgrim is not for him. 

" The fact is there are two Governments in Ireland : 
the Republican Government representing roughly 75 
per cent, of the population, and the British Government 
representing the remaining 25 per cent. The will of 
the majority should prevail in these democratic days. 
England says not. Very well. If we must die to es- 
tablish the rights of democracy in Ireland we are 
ready." 

" And we will fight and die with our men ! " exclaimed 
a hitherto silent member of the company. She turned 
to me. "Do you know that the hate of England is 
so intense in my part of the country that a woman told 
me she scarcely knew how to bear the disgrace of having 
had a son who fought for England in the war ? And the 

268 



More About Ireland 

neighbours axe so sorry for her they are breaking her 
heart with kindness and pity." 

" There is an old man lives near here," said rny 
hostess, " who is dying. He has eight children, and 
his wife is delicate. He is tortured with the fear of 
what will become of them when he goes. The priest 
came to administer the sacrament : ' I will get the boy 
a place in the munitions,' he said, speaking of the eldest 
son. ' He will help his mother.' 

" ' Thank you very kindly, Father. You mean it well, 
and you are very kind. But it cannot be. We are 
not of that way of thinking.' " 

There was a long silence after this story. Memory 
took me back to the scene in London when the Irish 
Labour leaders came to explain their cause and solicit 
our co-operation. " You may remain indifferent or 
even refuse to help us," said Mr. Johnson, their spokes- 
man. " Your Government may torture our women 
and kill our men by the thousand, but you will never 
break our spirit." It was a proud boast, but the reason 
was a revelation. " You will never defeat us, for we Irish 
have a living faith in God." 

I believe this to be profoundly true ; and he will 
misread the Irish situation and misunderstand Irish 
men and women who fails to look beyond the picture 
drawn by partisan newspapers for their own ends to 
the vision in the souls of those to whom God and country 
are real and noble passions. 

" But will you take nothing less than complete 
separation ? " I pleaded. 

" On grounds of economy, for reasons of efficiency, 
for our common safety, is not national self-government 
within the Commonwealth a happier issue for us 
all ? " 

" Ourselves alone," was murmured round the room ; 
but from the general smile I felt a lighter heart. 

" Give us the right to choose, free and unfettered, 
and — wait and see." 

269 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

It is the least they can claim or that the British 
Government can give in its own interests as well as those 
of the Irish. It would be an act of faith such as few 
Governments in history have shown themselves capable 
of performing ; but there are national and international 
situations where only a supreme act of faith will suffice. 

And this is one of those. 



270 



CONCLUSION 

And the fruits of these wanderings abroad are — 
what ? 

For two hours I sat in the old-world garden of an 
English manor house pondering the answer to that 
question. Old-fashioned and variegated flowers in every 
colour of the rainbow massed themselves around the 
moss-covered rocks, climbed the walls, and peeped out 
of the crevices and corners, throwing out strong, sweet 
scents of the wallflower and the jasmine. The shadow 
on the sundial crept slowly round its withered face. 
Tall elm trees sheltered the noisy crows. A bold cuckoo 
competed with the lark for our attention and regard. 
A typical English scene, suggestive of peace and plenty ; 
so entirely different from any scene in the torn and 
stricken lands of Europe. 

The twofold character of my work abroad has been 
told in these pages. The physical relief of suffering 
goes on through the American Relief agencies, the Society 
of Friends and the Save the Children Fund. The utmost 
that can be done is but a drop in the bucket of Europe's 
overwhelming needs. It is only the first dressing of 
wounds, which cannot be cured except by probing to 
the cause and clearing away the poison. This is not the 
business of philanthropy when the cause is political. 
An exaggerated sympathy, which is the very essence 
of charitable enterprise, could even hinder the work 
of political and economic recovery by an uninformed 
emphasis of the patient's suffering and a forgetfulness 
of his guilt. A stable internationalism can be built 
only upon a universal recognition of partnership in the 

271 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

guilt which has laid the world so low. But in such 
internationalism lies the hope of the future. 

I returned from my travels reinforced a thousand- 
fold in the conviction of the necessity of internationalism 
I if the world is to be saved ; with this in addition, that 
the present problem for mankind is not to persuade the 
world to internationalism. It is rather to teach it the 
right kind of internationalism. Internationalism of one 
sort or another is as inevitable as the rising of the sun. 
| The League of Nations is the second embodiment of an 
; idea which held great masses of men and women before 
j even the first, the Workers' International, was born, 
j This idea can be safely trusted to persist and grow in 
spite of every menace, because it is in the direct line 
of political and economic evolution. It is the next 
inevitable step in the march of ordered progress. 

In the realms of art, science, invention, commerce, 
industry, economics and finance nationalism is languishing 
towards its inevitable decay — if it is not already dead. 
Political internationalism is destined to crown the struc- 
ture of the world society of the future as surely as the 
night follows the day. 

But what kind of political internationalism is it to 
be ? That is the question. Heaven forbid that it should 
be the anti-nationalism of Lenin, wrongly called inter- 
nationalism, which will prevail over the earth. That 
would be to menace too alarmingly the truly valuable 
differences amongst men. The characteristic differences 
of nations should be, with very great reluctance and 
only for sufficient reason, sought to be obliterated. The 
variety in dress, manners, customs, speech of the various 
races and nations is the very spice of the world's life 
which gives it all its flavours. Difficulties of language, 
so fruitful of the misunderstandings which create wars, 
should be overcome by the provision of larger educational 
opportunities rather than by the establishment of one 
I universal tongue. Esperanto is a wise and simple 
j device to facilitate discussion between men and nations ; 

2J2 



Conclusion 

but the compulsory study of French, German and English 
in the elementary schools would be of greater value to 
mankind than a knowledge of the most useful of languages 
manufactured for a purpose, and not born of a living 
nation's intellectual and spiritual growth. A knowledge 
of languages would add a richness and beauty to life 
which might well give place to the boasted utilitarianism 
of most British curricula. 

But although Lenin's anti-nationalism is to be avoided | 
like the plague, the militarist internationalism of a cap- 
italist order of society should be shunned like the pesti- 
lence. The new " Balance of Power " would then be 
the balance of classes, the possessors in every country 
leagued against the possessed in every land. Victory 
would go to that side which controlled the fighting 
material. All the disorders of the old system would 
afflict the new, with the added terror which increased 
efficiency would produce. 

To save the new international organization, the League 
of Nations, from such an evolution, is enlightened Labour's 
best reason for giving its support to the League. It is 
Labour's business to see that the organization of the 
League is on thoroughly democratic lines ; that it admits 
at no distant date every country within its fold, and that 
the broad matters of its discussions be not conducted 
in secrecy nor its broad lines of policy be adopted without 
the knowledge and consent of the peoples of the world 
themselves,, 

And for the Workers' International, I know of no 
line of policy which they could adopt more advantageous 
to themselves than that of educating the public opinions 
of the various countries included therein to compel 
their respective Governments to disarm. The ration- 
ality of total disarmament has always been seriously 
questioned by those who have passed for wise. But j 
total disarmament by all the nations is the only rational 
solution of the problems of peace and war. Such action \ 

rr\a\7 Indira -fn V»a crrQrlnol • l-f mnot ooi-+oir»lTr T-i» faVon in 



may have to be gradual ; it must certainly be taken in | 

273 



A Political Pilgrim in Europe 

concert. But if the responsible statesmen of all lands 
would together lead the van and, scorning vested and 
professional interests, would declare for the ploughshare 
and the pruning-hook instead of the sword and the 
spear, the hosts of mankind would joyfully follow them 
in such a holy crusade. 

It may be that men and women will have to wade 

through oceans of suffering before they recognize modern 

warfare for the organized filthiness it is. There was a 

certain personal dignity in physical strife when men 

/met with bare hands, or with a stick or even a single 

I sword, the human foe equally equipped. But the modern 

j machine-gun, the tank, the poison gas, the fighting 

I aeroplane — all the resources of science used against 

) the innocent and guilty alike — women, old folks and 

1 babes — what single element of dignity or decency in 
such a conflict ; honour, democracy, freedom, the pledged 
word setting the monstrous machine in motion, since 
men are too good in the mass to fight for anything less 
than these ; and lurking in the shadow, anxious but 
safe, that insatiable dragon of greed, which for oil-wells 
and mining interests and timber concessions and goldfields 
will see millions of men welter in blood and millions of 
children and their mothers succumb to famine and disease. 
Which brings me to my final word. That for the 
evils which afflict mankind there is no remedy save the 
elimination of selfishness, which is " the whole of the 
; law and the prophets." Selfishness in the individual, 
i selfishness in the State. When it is universally recognized 
that every child born is entitled to the " development 
of all the perfection of which it is capable " ; when the 
equal rights of nations, great and small, are ad- 
mitted by all the States in Council ; when the power 
of law and not the rule of force is the governing factor 
in the relations of men and nations, then begins the new 
era. 

On such a foundation only can the true International 
Order be securely built. 

274 



INDEX 



Ad dams. Miss Jane, at International 
Conference of Women at the 
Hague, 13, 76 
at Kingsway Hall, 78 
author and, 77 
peace mission of, 78, 79 
personality of, 77 
Adler, Friedrich, and Bolshevism, 
33. 35. 182 
at Berne Conference, 31 
fidelity to principles of, 32 
murderer of Count Sturgh, 31, 32 
pardoned by Emperor Charles, 31 
sent to quell riot, 33 
trial of, 32, 33 
Adlon, Hotel, Berlin, 169 
Ador, President, and Second Inter- 
national Conference, 4 
Agoston, Professor, imprisonment 

of, 117 
" Alfred and Omega " (Lord North- 
cliff e), 172 
American Peace Delegation, at 

Hotel Crillon, 7, 8, 38 
American Relief Commission, work 

of, in Vienna, 114 
Andrassy, Count Geza, 72 

author and, 73 
Angell, Norman, at Berne, 36, 52 
Anti-Semitism, fallacies of, 182-4 
Antwerp, author at, 173 
Arco, Count, 85 
Armenia, 149 

Bolsheviks and, 225, 231 
cruelties in, 150 
Armistice, hard conditions of, 27 
Ashton, Councillor Margaret, 75 
Asquith, Mr., Germans and speeches 

of, 168 
Astor, Lady, 167 

Augspurg, Dr. Anita, at Zurich, 83 
Austerlitz, Dr., 119 
Austria, author's tour through, 103 
et seq. 



Austria, Christian Socialism in, 122 
currency depreciation in, 111 
"dying," 103 et seq. 
evil of embargoes on, 25 
fear of France in, 117 
menace of union with Germany, 
pro-German feeling in, 120 [117 
proposed union with Bavaria 

and, 120 
Social Democratic Party of, and 

union with Germany, 118 
Socialist Government of, 28 
Union with Germany movement 
in, 119, 120 
Austrian Government and Social- 
ists, 32 
Austrian Socialists, and union with 
Germany, 118 
at Berne, 22 
denounce the war, 32 
Azerbaijan, Bolsheviks and, 149, 
213, 225 

Baku, Bolsheviks and, 149 
Balabanova, Angelica, 3, 140, 181 
" Balance of Power," the new, 273 
Baltic, minefields in, 155 
Barbusse, M., and Clarte group, 129 
Barnes, Mr., and Berne Conference, 4 
Batoum, author at, 203, 228 

capture of, by Bolsheviks, 226 

Greek refugees at, 229 
Bauer, Dr., and Austro-German 
union, 118 

and Peace Treaty, 119 

author and, 118, 119 

on problems of Town v. Country, 

personality of, 118, 119 [121 

the " Kreuzlbauer, " 133 

writes in National Zeitung, 133 
Bavaria, under Communism, 63, 83, 



Beek en Donk, Dr. de Jong van, 
54. 132 



275 



Index 



Beesly, Professor, founder of First 
International, 130 

Belgarde, Passport and Customs 
examination at, 13 

Belgian Socialists, and Berne Con- 
ference, 11 
and the war, 193 
at Geneva, 12 

Belgrade, author in, 234 

Belle Vue Hotel, Berne, author at, 

57, 58, 79, 132 
secretariat of Second Inter- 
national at, 17 
Berlin, author's visit to, 159, 161- 
Communists of, 162 [172 

Hotel Adlon at, 169 
post-war condition of, 168 
Berne, author on, 51, 132 

League of Nations Conference 

at, 54 et seq. 
political agents (spies) at, 18 

et seq. 
Second International Conference 

at, 1 et seq. ; arrival of delegates 

to, 14 ; delegates journey to, 4 

et seq. 
Wiener Cafe at, 51, 52, 133, 134 
Bernstein, Fdouard., 29, 30 
at lucerne, 97 
personality and views of, 97 
refused admission to England, 

98 
" Biology of War," by Professor 

Nicolai, 68 
" Black and Tans," 255, 265 
Blockade of Germany, continuance 

of, after Armistice, 25 
Bolshevism, author on, 139 et seq. 
fear of, in Border Republics, 155 
fear of, in Central Europe, 181 
Kautsky and, 25 
Second International and, 35, 36 
Third International and, 130 
Bolshevik Government, and Kemal- 

ists, 149, 201 
Armenia and, 149, 150, 213, 231 
Azerbaijan and, 149, 213, 225 
Baku and, 149 
Caucasus and, 225 
causes of long life of, 144 
Georgia and, 149, 150, 212, 225, 
Jews and, 182 [226 

Poland and, 178 



Bolshevik Government, propaganda 

of, 149 
Bondfield, Margaret, and Berne 
Conference, 3 
in Paris, 8 
Borjom, author at, 221 
Bornemiza, BarA, 137 
Boulogne, post-war scenes at, 5 
Bourgeois, Socialist interpretation 

of, 59 
Bramley, Fred, 7 
Branting, M., at Berne, 30 
author and, 159, 160, 161 
pro- Ally, 32 
Breitschied, Herr, 166 
Brentano, Professor, author and, 63 
Brest-Litovsk, Peace of, Trotsky 
and, xi, 143 
Allies and, 142 
Lenin and, 142 
" Briefe einer Deutsch-Franzosin," 

by Annette Kolb, 67 
Bristol Hotel, Vienna, author's 

experiences in, 111, 112 
British Delegation to "Berne, har- 
mony of, 23 
meeting of, with German dele- 
gates, 24 
British Militarv Mission, at Berlin, 
161 
at Constantinople, 229 
at Vienna, 114 
in Esthonia, 156 
popularity of, 114 
British Military Permit, 56 
Buchs, author at, 105, 106 
Budapest, Conference of National 
Union of Women's Suffrage 
Societies at, 70 
Bullitt, William, at Berlin, 170 

at Berne, 38 
Bunning, Mr. Stuart, at Berne, 23 
Burns, John, and Miss Jane Addams, 

77 
Buxton, Mrs. Chas. Roden, author 
and, 135 

delegate to League of Nations 
Conference, 60 

Relief efforts for Viennese chil- 
dren, 61 

" Save the Children Fund," and, 
61 
Buxton, Mr. Charles Roden, 26 



276 



Index 



Capitalism, failure of, xii. 

replacement of, by Collectivist 
Internationalism, 143 
Carmi, Maria, 172 
Casement, Roger, 33, 266 
Catt, Mrs. C. Chapman, 42 
Caucasian Republics, Federation 

of, 213 
Caucasus, Imperialist policy in, 149 
Central Europe, post-war condi- 
tions in, 109, no 
Charles, ex-Emperor, Adler and, 31 
attempts to recover throne, 33 
Bohemian delegate and, 20 
Count Teleki and, 69 
Prince Windischgraetz and, 71 
Charles, Prince of Sweden, and 

relief for Russia, 157, 158 
Charlotteuburg, Children's Clinic 

at, 1 70-1 
Child relief, International organi- 
zation for, 60 
Children, Austrian, sufferings of, 26, 
61, 73, 74, 125 
German, sufferings of, 25, 26, 164, 

170 
Polish, sufferings of, 180 
Christian Socialism in Austria, 122 
Claparede Rene and Clarte group, 
129 
edits newspaper in Geneva, 139 
Clarte Socialist group, 129 
Clemenceau, story of, on Peace, 123 
Cohn, Oscar, 166 
Cologne, author at, 172-3 
Communism, and spirit of hate, xii. 
Communists and Kautsky, 25 
German, 162, 164, 165 
Russian programme of, 144 
" Comrade," author's protest at 

misuse of, 15, 16 
Connolly, execution of, 246 
Constantinople, author at, 200, 201, 
229 
Socialist movement in, 233 
Cork, author in, 262-4 
Courtney, Lord, 46 
Crown Princess of Sweden, death of, 

158 

Cunninghame, Lieut. -Colonel Sir 
Thomas, author and, 114 
Hungarian aristocracy and, 115 
Czapsritski, K., 175 



Czecho-Slovak Delegates, at Lu- 

cerne, 98 
Czecho-Slovakia, opposition to 

economic union with Austria 

in, 120 

Daily Herald, as representative of 

organized Labour, 17 
Danubian federation suggested, 120 
De Brouckere, M. Louis, delegate 

to Georgia, 189, 191 
de Jong, Dr., see Beek en Donk 
De Kay, John, at Berne, 38, 39, 40, 

at Lucerne, 133 [41 

Dernburg, Herr, author and, 167 
De Valera, 182, 184 
Despard, Mrs., and Lord French, 94 

at Zurich, 93 i 

in Berne, 138 

in Ireland, 263 

personality of, 93, 94 
Dictatorship of the Proletariat, 

fallacy of, in Russia, 141 
Disarmament, necessity for, 273 
Dittmann, Herr, 166 
Dobrenszky, Countess, 186 
Drexel, Mr., 170 

Dublin, author's visit to, 241, 265 
Dvarzaladze, M. andMme., 195 

EberT, President, author and, 165 

personality of, 165 
Ehrlich, Professor, 187 
Einam, Baroness von, and starving 

Austrian children, 73, 74 
Einstein, Prof., 187 
Eisner, Kurt, and Dr. Forster, 65, 

and free speech, 118 [66 

author and, 86 

incompetent as President, 63 

murder of, 15, 86 

personality of, 83, 84, 85, 165 

welcomes British delegates at 
Berne, 15, 30, 85 
Ellis, Miss Edith, 263 
England, and Turkey, 230, 232 

great Jews of, 187 
" Entente husband," 134 
Esperanto, a wise device, 272 
Esthonia, poverty in, 156 
Extraordinary Commission, in 
Russia, 144 



2 ?7 



Index 



Fehrenbach, Herr, 161 

" Fight the Famine " conference, 

136 
Finland, fear of Russia in, 155 
First International, foundation and 

dissolution of, 130 
Fitzgerald, Desmond, 252 
Ford, Henry, and Jews, 182 
Peace mission of, 47 
Peace ship, 47, 48 
Ford, Isabella, at Zurich, 82 

author and, 82 
Forster, Professor A. W., and Kurt 
Eisner, 66 
as Minister to Switzerland, 65 
as Pacifist, 65, 69 
delegate to League of Nations 
Conference, 64 
Fourteen Points, Wilson's, 170 
a German opinion of, 89, 90 
France, Anatole, 129 
France, and German coal, 171 
Free Trade and Austrian Christian 

Socialists, 122 
French, Lord, and Mrs. Despard, 94 
French Military Permit, 56 
French Socialists at Berne, 22 
French Socialist Congress.Strasburg, 
author at, 129, 131, 132 
differences at, 131 
votes for Third International, 133 
Freundlich, Frau, and Austrian 

Socialist policy, 118 
Fried, and Clarte Group, 129 
Frutigen, camp of Austrian chil- 
dren at, 73, 74 
Fry, Miss Joan, delegate to League 
of Nations Conference, 60 

Gaujpou, author sees, 199 
Gavronsky, M., 177, 178 
Geneva, author in, 135 
Berne delegates at, 13, 14 
Conference at, Belgian Socialists 

and, 12 
Passport and Customs exam- 
ination at, 13 
" Save the Children Fund " 

Conference at, 131 
Second International Conference 
at, 136 
George, Mr. Lloyd, Germans and 
speeches of, 168 



George, Mr. Lloyd, on Peace 
objects, xi., 89, 92 

Georgia, and Bolshevism, 150, 223, 
225 
author's visit to, 175, 189 et seq. 
Bolshevik Government and, 149, 

150, 212, 213 
Dance song of, 217 
Foreign policy of, 211 
National Anthem of, 226 
Parliament of, 208 
Radek on Bolshevization of, 150 
Second International and, 175 
Socialist Government of, 208 
Steklov on, 150 
Toast song of, 206 

German Majority Socialists, at 
Berne, 22, 28, 29 
Belgian Socialists and, 11 
restraint and moderation of, 29 

German Minority Socialists, at 
Berne, 22, 28 

Germany, Alien Tax in, 159 

an opinion of effect of Peace in, 

91, 92 
Communism and, 162, 164 
disarmament default of, 162 
export of coal from, 171 
false reports concerning, 173-4 
Independent Socialists of, 166 
Nationalists of, 162-3 
Socialist newspapers in, 17 
sufferings of children in, from 

blockade, 25 
thrift habits in, 167, 168 

Gilles, Lieut., 19 

Gobat, Mile., at Zurich, 86 

Golden, Mr., 136 

Greece, attitude of, to Turkey, 230 

Green, Mrs. A. Stopford, 251 

Grockney, Otto, 124 

Grumbach, Herr, Alsatian delegate 
to Berne, 128 

Guest, Dr. Haden, 155 

Guttmann, Dr., at Berne, 36 

Haase, German delegate to Berne, 
30 ; murder of, 30 

Hague, The, International Con- 
ference of Women at, 12, 76 

Hall, Captain, 7 

Hans in Schnahenloch, by Rene 
Schickele, 129 



278 



Index 



Harden, Maximilian, 187 
Hardie, Keir, 97 

Haupt, Baron, author and, 103, 104 
Hedin, Sven, author and, 158, 159 
Henderson, Mr. Arthur, M.P., and 
author's visit to Ireland, 239 
and Berne Conference, 3, 4, 30 
and spy's report, 20 
and Stockholm Socialist Con- 
ference, 1, 2 
as member of War Cabinet, 32 
work of, for Labour Party, 7 
Henderson, Will, 7 
Hennet, Baron, 118 
Herzka, Frau, at Zurich, 86 
Hobhouse, Miss, and foreign agent, 

96 
Hohenlohe, Prince Alexander, at 
Zurich, 92, 93 
author and, 93 
Horthy, Admiral, offensive car- 
toons of, 137 
Hotel Crillon, as headquarters of 
American Peace Delegation, 7, 8 
House, Colonel, 7, 81 
Hull House, Chicago, Miss Jane 

Addams and, 77, 78 
Humperdinck, Egbert, 172 
Hungarian Peace Treaty, 117 
Hungarian Red Cross, author and 
petition from, to President 
Wilson, 81 
members of, and Bolshevism, 135 
Hungary, anti-democratic policy 
of White Government of, 117 
aristocrats of, 115 
Bolshevik Revolution in, 49 
Count Teleki, Prime Minister of, 

69 

counter-revolution in, 95 

Entente officials and counter- 
revolution of, 117 

poverty in, 116 

Red Terror in, 175 

Socialist policy in, 72 

White Terror in, 70, 116, 137, 184 
Huysmans, M. Camille, at Berne 
Conference, 3, 4, n, 30 

at Second International Confer- 
ence, Geneva, 137 

author and, 1 89 

delegate to Georgia, 189 

personality of, 189, 190 



Huysmans, Mine., 189, 195 
Huysmans, Mile. Sara, 191 
Hyman, Fraulein L. G., at Zurich, 83 

Imperialism, mischief of, xii. 
Independent Socialists, German, 

160 
India, Bolshevik propaganda and, 

149 
Inge, Dean, and democracy, 88 
Inghels, M., delegate to Georgia, 

189, 196 
" Intelligence " man, in Cork, 263 
International Conferences, method 

of conducting, 21, 22 
International Council, Conference 
of, at Lucerne, 95 et seq. 
author as Press representative at, 
95 et seq. 
" International, The," sung at 

Batoum, 203 
International Woman Suffrage 

Alliance, Conference of, 42 
Internationalism, capitalists and, 
130 
collectivist, 143 
difficulties of, 95 
inevitability of, 272 
Ireland, author visits, 237 et seq. 
Catholic v. Protestant in, 254 
G. W. Russell on, 242 et seq. 
murder of soldiers in, 265 
rebellion of 191 6, 267 
two Governments of, 268 
" tyranny of the minority " in, 
141 

JaurES, scandal of acquittal of mur- 
derer of, 9, 10 

portrait of, in Chamber of Depu- 
ties, 10 

scene of murder of, 9 
Jebb, Miss Eglantyne, 61, 135 
Jews, celebrated, 187 

of Central Europe, 181 et seq. 

Socialist, 187 

Vienna Press and, 187 
Joachim, Prince at Hotel Adlon, 115 
Jordania, M., 208, 210 

letter from, 224 
Journalists, Continental and British, 

compared, 36, 37 
Jugo-Slavia, prosperity of, 235 



279 



Index 



KAISERHOF, The, author at, 166 
Karolyi, Count, and Frau Schwim- 
mer, 42 
author and, 42 

Princess von Liechtenstein on 
policy of, 72 
Kasbec, author's visit to, 215 et seq. 
Kautsky, Herr, as Marxist and anti- 
Bolshevik, 25 
author's meeting with, 24, 25, 166 
delegate to Georgia, 189, 229 
hatred of, by Communists, 25 
personality of, 25 
Kellner, Professor Leon, 124, 187 
Kemal Pasha, and Bolsheviks, 149, 
at Trebizond, 201 [201 

France and Italy and, 230 
Kerensky, M., personality and 

policy of, 212 
Kilmarnock, Lord, 161 
Kleist, Major von, author and 

daughter of, 80 
Knock-out blow, evils of policy of, xi. 
Kolb, Annette, author and, 129 
" Briefe einer Deutsch - Fran- 

zosin," by, 67 
personality of, 66, 67 
Kommer, Rudolf, at Berne, 36, 52, 
71, 72 
in Berlin, 132 
Koutais, author's visit to, 220 
Kuenzer, Herr, 166 
Kun, Bela, 69, 70, 117 
a Jew, 181, 182 

Labour Party, British, and Second 
International, 130 
Anti-war demonstration of, 28 
delegation to Ireland from, 239 
delegation to Poland from, 176 
devoted work of officials of, 7 
"Jim" Middleton and, 6 
lack of Press organization by, 17 
Labour Temples, Continental, 17 
Lansbury, George, at Berne, 38 
Latzko, Andreas, author and, 67, 68 
"Men in Battle," by, 67 
personality of, 67 
Law, Bonar, Germans and speeches 

of, 169 
Lawrence, Mrs. Pethick, at Zurich, 
League of Nations, xi, 81 [86 

Armenia and, 231 



League of Nations, Georgia and, 214 
Internationalism and, 272 
Labour and, 273 
Labour Department, Miss Sophie 

Sanger and, 3 
Vienna as centre for, 136 
League of Nations Commission, of 
the Second International, 
author as member of, 22 
League of Nations Conference, 
author as delegate to, 54 et seq. 
first meeting with Women's In- 
ternational League, 79 
purpose of, 62 
recommendations of, 63 
types of delegates at, 59 
Lenin, and bourgeois ideal of liberty, 

59 
and Brest-Litovsk manifesto, 142 
anti-nationalism of, 273, 273 
as " only happy Socialist Min- 
ister," 28 
at Wiener Cafe, 53 
author's estimate of, 145, 146 
changed views of, 99, 147, 148 
differences of, with Trotsky, 148 
difficulties of, 85 
Georgia and, 226 
Kerensky 's policy and, 212 
moderate policy of, 144 
Second International on, 35 
speech of, at Russian Communist 

Conference, 146 
World-Communism and World- 
revolution ideas of, 145 

Leslie, Mr., Consul at Reval, 156 

Liebknecht, 182 

Liechtenstein, Prince Johan von, 73 

Liechtenstein, Princess Maritza von, 
on Count Karolyi's policy, 72 
personality of, 72, 73 

" Little Gillies," 6 

Longuet, M. Jean, and Bolshevism, 

35 
and British delegates to Berne, 9 
at Strasburg Conference, 130, 131 
personality of, 10 
Lord, Mrs., 132 

Lucerne, American millionaire 
socialist at, 100 
Conference of International 
Council at, 95 et seq. 
Ludendorff, Gen., 165 



280 



Index 



MacArthur, Mary, 176 

McBride, Major, execution of, 263 

McBride, Mme., 263 

Macdonald, Mr. J. Ramsay, and 
M. Gavronsky, 179 
and M. Longuet, 9 
at Batoum, 203, 204, 228 
at Berne, 38, 52 
delegate to Georgia, 189, 196 
delegation to Georgia and, 175 
in Geneva, 14 
woman spy and, 96 

Macmillan, Miss Crystal, 86 

Malcolm, General, 161 

Marquet, M., at Batoum, 229 
at Strasburg conference, 130 
delegate to Georgia, 189, 196, 
in Belgrade, 234 [218 

Marshall, Miss Katharine, 102 

Marx, Karl, founds First Inter- 
national, 130 
Jean Longuet, grandson of, 9 
Kautsky as exponent of prin- 
ciples of, 25 

Meinl, Mr. Julius, on decontrol of 
food, 122 

Melan, Mile., at Zurich, 86 

" Men in Battle," by Andreas 
Latzko, 67 

Meyer, Herr Edouard, 164 

Middleton, Jim, as secretary to 
delegates to Berne, 6 

Militarism, x. 

Bolsheviks and, 141 
failure of, xii. 

Miners, British, and " Save the 
Children Fund," 171 

Molkenbuhr at Berne, 29, 30 

Montgelas, Count Max, at League 
of Nations Conference, 60 

Morning Post, author and, 183 

Miiller (ex-Chancellor), at Berne, 
author and, 165 [23, 29 

supporter of Germany, 32 

Munich, strange story of delegate 
from, 6 
revolutionary scenes in, 84 

NANSEN, Dr., 81 

National Council for Civil Liberties, 

151 
National Peace Council, author as 
representative of, 60 



National Union of Women's Suf- 
frage Societies, Conference of, 
at Budapest, 70 
Peace efforts of, 75 
Nationalists, German, author and, 

162-165 
Nazarov, 196 
Nemec, Dr., at Berne, 98 

at Lucerne, 98 
Nicolai, Professor, " Biology of 
War," by, 68 
escape to Denmark of, 69 
personality of, 68 
Nicolai vich, Grand Duke, author 

and palace of, 192, 221 
Northcliffe, Lord, German Radicals 
and, 172 

OCHME, Herr, 166 
Ogenheim, Baron, 135 

Pacifist, author as, 19 

Pallenberg, Max, 172 

Paris, delegates to Berne in, 7, 8 
dirty condition of, after Armistice, 
8, 9 

Parliamentary Committee of the 
Trade Union Congress, dele- 
gates of, at Berne, 3 

Passports, difficulties of obtaining, 

55. 5 6 > 96 

examination of, 5, 13, 106, 107 
Peabody, George Foster, author and, 
Peace, views on, xi. [50 

Peace Conference, Paris as " ill- 
chosen seat of," 8 
Peace ship, Henry Ford's, 47 

Miss Addams and, 79 
Peasant v. Town worker, problem 

of, in Central Europe, 121 
Peasant-proprietorship in Georgia, 
Persia, Bolsheviks and, 149 [209 
Plunkett, Sir Horace, 244 
Poland, Bolsheviks and, 177-9 

children's sufferings in, 180 

Jews in, 185-6 

Labour party and, 176, 177 

plight of, 179-80 
Political agents at Berne, 18 et seq. 
Poti, author's visit to, 221 
Prague, split among Socialists of, 99 
Price, Phillips, and Germany's dis- 
armament, 162 



28l 



Index 



Radek, 25 

a Jew, 181 

and bourgeois institutions, 59 

and Treaty of Sevres, 149 

on Bolshevization of Georgia, 150 
Reading, Lord, 187 
Redlich, Dr., Christian Socialist 

leader, 122 
Redmond, John, 267 
Red Terror, in Hungary, 175 

in Russia, 35 
Reichstag, and Peace Resolution, 

author's visit to, 162 \xi. 

women members of, 166 
Reinhardt, Max, 187 
Renaudel, M., at Berne, 15, 23 

at Strasburg Conference, 130, 131 

delegate to Georgia, 189, 196, 
218 
Renner, Dr., 104 
Reprisals in Ireland, 243 
Reval, author at, 155 
Rhine, The, author and, 173 
Rome, author in, 197, 198 
Royden, Miss Maude, 75 
Rusiecka, Dr. Marie de, 133 

and League of Nations Con- 
ference, 138 

and Serbian retreat, 137 

at Zurich, 138 

personality of, 138 
Russell, G. W., author and, 242 
Russell, Hon. Bertrand, 65, 70 
Russia, author's views on, 139 et 
seq. 

democratic programme of, 147 

Red Terror in, 35 
Russian Revolution and Third 

International, 130 
Russo- Georgian Treaty, 225 
Russo-Polish Treaty, 148 

Samtjei,, Sir Herbert, 187 
Sanger, Miss Sophie, 3 
Sapieha, Princess, 180 
Savery, Mr., 133 

" Save the Children" Fund, author 
as member of executive of, 155 

conference at Geneva, 131 

foundation and work of, 61 

organization of, 136 

relief work of, 271 

work of, in Vienna, 114 



Schickele, Rene, 128, 129 

Hans in Schnakenloch, by, 129 
SchSnbrunn Palace, children's hos- 
pital in, 125 
Schwartz-Hillen, Dr., and Galician 

Jewish refugees, 118 
Schwimmer, Rosika, and Henry 
Ford, 47, 48 
and President Wilson, 44, 45 
appointed Minister to Switzer- 
land, 42 
author and, 42, 43, 48, 49 
personality of, 49 
Second International, Adler's re- 
ception by, 31, 32 
author at conference of, 18 
Belgian Socialists and, 11 
British delegates, 23 
British Labour Party decides for, 

130 
conference of, at Berne, 1 et seq. 
conference of, at Geneva, 136 
countries represented at Berne, 

30 

delegation to Georgia from, 175, 
189 et seq. 

Executive Committee at Berne, 30 

foundation of, 130 

German delegates at Berne, 24, 28 

League of Nations commission 
of, 22 

main achievement of Berne Con- 
ference, 34 

newspaper men at conference of, 

on Bolshevism, 35 [36 

Socialist differences with, 130, 
Secret diplomacy, 118 [166 

Seitz, President, at Berne, 26 

author and, 11 1, 124 

personality of, 124, 165 
Selfishness, elimination of, 274 
Semmering, author at, 124 
Serbia, prosperity of, 235 
Sevres, Treaty of, Radek and, 149 
Shaw, Dr. Anna, 77 
Shaw, Tom, M.P., 176 

delegate to Georgia, 189, 196 
Shinwell, 182 

Siberian prisoners, sufferings of, 80 
Sinn Fein, causes of political rise 

of, 268 
Skobeloff, Mme., 195 
Smeral, Dr., at Lucerne, 98 



282 



Index 



Smeral, Dr., personality of, 99 
Social Democracy, Kautsky and, 25 
Socialist Conference, International, 

at Stockholm, 2 
Socialist Government of Georgia, 

208 
Socialist Governments, European, 

difficulties of, 27 
Sociitt des Amis, good work of, 62 
Society of Friends, and Continental 
distress, 62 
in Cork, 263 
relief work of, 114, 271 
Russians' trust in, 158 
Spy, political, author and, 18, 19, 96 
fear of, at Berne, 18, 
at Lucerne, 97 
Steklov on Georgia, 150 
Stinnes, Hugo, 169 
Stockholm, author in, 157 

proposed Socialist conference at, 2 
Strasburg, author at French Social- 
ist Congress at, 129 
Strunsky, Simeon, at Berne, 36 
Sturgh, Count, murder of, 31 
Swanwick, Mrs., and Zurich Con- 
ference, 79 
personality of, 81, 82 
Swedish Red Cross and relief 

expedition to Russia, 157 
Swiss Government, and Second 
International Conference, 4 
efforts at neutrality of, 133 
Szamuely, atrocities of, 184 

"pervert and madman," 115 
Szilassy, Baron, 81, 133 

Taranto, author at, 198 
Tchicherine, and Georgians, 213 

and Swedish relief expedition, 158 

personality of, 151 
Teleki, Count, and ex-Emperor 
Charles, 69 

author and, 69, 70 
" The i\ International," 34 
Third International, Bolsheviks and, 
130 

efforts of, to absorb Second, 130 

establishment of, 35, 36 

influence of, 166 

Strasburg Conference and, 133 
Thomas, Albert M., at Berne, 23 

French " patriot," 32 



Thomas, Mr. J. H., and Second 
International Conference, 4 

" Through Bolshevik Russia," by 
Mrs. Philip Snowden, 139, 181 

Tiflis, author at, 208 
Bolsheviks at, 225 

Tipperary, destruction at, 256 

Toller, author and, 64 

Tracey, Herbert, 7 

Trebizond, author at, 201, 229 

Trotsky, a Jew, 181, 182 

and Peace of Brest- Litovsk, xi., 
and Poland, 177 [143 

as Russian Napoleon, 148 
at Wiener Cafe, 53 
differences between Lenin and, 
in Vienna, 123 [148 

Kerensky's policy and, 212 
on Armenia and Georgia, 225 
Second International on, 35 
story of, 124 

Tseretelli, M., 175, 197 

Turco-Russian Treaty, 236 

Turk, virtues and vices of, 230, 231 

Turkey, position of, 232-3 

Turkish Nationalists, and Bol- 
sheviks, 149 

Union of Democratic Control, au- 
thor as delegate from, 54 
similarity of policy with Clarte 
group, 129 

Vaiixant-CouTtjrier, at Strasburg 

Conference, 131 
Vandervelde, Fmil, delegate to 
Georgia, 189, 191, 192 
speech of, at Geneva Conference, 
Vandervelde, Mme., 194 [12 

Versailles, Treaty of, and German 
coal, 171 
author's condemnation of, at 

Zurich, 87; at Berne, 138 
Bran ting and, 160 
German Socialists and, 166 
German view of, 88-92 
injustice of, 26, 27 
Women's International Confer- 
ence and, 87 
Vienna, as centre for League of 
Nations, 136 
author's distressing journey to, 
105 et seq. 



283 



Inde 



x 



Vienna, Bristol Hotel at, in, 112 
British Military Mission at, 114 
children's holiday camps in, 125 
food profiteering in, 109 
hotel charges in, 1 1 1 
Jews and Press in, 187 
poverty in, 112, 113, 126 
Schonbrunn Palace, children's 

hospital at, 125 
terrible condition of children in, 

60 
" The 2i International " Con- 
ference at, 34, 60 
unemployment in, 113 
Villard, Oswald G., and President 
Wilson, 49, 50 
at Berne Conference, 36 
author and, 50, 51 
personality of, 49, 50 
views on war and peace, 50 
Volkshaus, Berne, Second Inter- 
national Conference in, 17 
Vollmoeller, Karl, author and, 

1 7 1-2 
" Voltaire of Wurtemberg," the, 
171 

Wake, E. P., 7 

Warfare, modern, " filthiness " of, 

274 
Warsaw, and Bolshevik attack, 179 
Washington, author at, 44, 45, 46 
Weardale, Lord, and " Save the 

Children " Fund, 61 
Webb, Mr. Sidney, and Gavronsky, 
Wels, M., at Berne, 23 [179 

" White Terror," in Hungary, 70, 

116, 184 
Admiral Horthy and, 137 
Wied, Prince, 159 

Wiener Cafe, Berne, 51, 52, 53, 133, 

I,enin and Trotskjr at, 53 [134 

Wiesbaden, saluting French flag at, 

115 

Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, Countess, 

157. 169 
Wilamowitz-Moellendorf, Professor, 

author and, 163 
Wilson, Mr. Hugh, in Berlin, 170 



Wilson, President, author and, 43, 

44 
failure of, 34 
"Fourteen Points" of, 87, 89, 

90, 170 
League of Nations Conference 

and, 63 
O. G. Villard and, 49, 5° 
on rights of small nations, xi. 
petition to, from Hungarian Red 
Cross, 81 
Windischgraetz, Prince Ludwig, 53 
author and, 70 

ex-Fmperor Charles and, 71 
in Paris, 132 
personality of, 70, 71 
Windischgraetz, Princess Maria, 
author and, 72 
in Prague, 132 
personality of, 71 
Winter, Dr. Max, author and, 125 
Wise, Rabbi, 80 

Women, International Conference 
of, at the Hague, 12 ; at 
Zurich, 18 
Women spies at Berne, 20, 96 
Women's International League for 
Permanent Peace, British dele- 
gates to, 76 
differences in, 75 
first conference of, at the Hague, 
foundation of, 75 [76 

Swiss branch of, and League of 

Nations Conference, 79 
Treaty of Versailles, 87 
Women's Peace Crusade, and peti- 
tion for negotiated peace, 2 
Workers' International, Berne Con- 
ference and, 30 
policy for, 273 

ZalEWSKI, M., author and, 133 
Zelkin, Clara, 3 
Zinoviev, 25 ; a Jew, 181 
Zuckerkandl, Mdme., author and, 

118, 122, 123 
Zurich, author on, 79 

Women's Conference at, 18, 75 

ei seq. 



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